


Pillars of Peace

by sinisterkid92



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Alternative Universe - No Island, Arranged Marriage, Bratva, Bratva Oliver Queen, F/M, alternative universe, but not really arranged marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6986548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinisterkid92/pseuds/sinisterkid92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an attempted assassination Felicity discovers a secret her mother had been hiding from her, and that  her supervisor Oliver Queen is a part of the Bratva. Suddenly finding herself in middle of a power struggle she has only one option to save her own life: marry Oliver Queen to ease tensions and bring peace. Too bad nothing is as easy as that, especially not when the stakes are this high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new fic I'm working on. I'm writing as I go, so sometimes it might go only a few days between updates, and sometimes longer. I chose to do this because it gives me better motivation to finish this story. It will go up and down quite a bit, include a few mature themes, some angst, some love, and two people in a tough situation getting to know each other. Beware of the tags because I might update them with new tags/warnings as the story goes on. 
> 
> I know this trope might be exhausted, but with the new season coming I think many of us are excited to see Bratva!Oliver in action. So here's a little story to keep you warm through the summer. Hope you enjoy!

All the days the coffee machine could break on her she figured today was one of the worst possible. With the coffee cup clutched in her hand she pressed the on button as hard as she could, but received no sign of life from the machine. She pressed it again. 

”No, no, no!” She groaned, slamming the cup down on the counter, and pressed the heel of her hands against her eyes. The past weeks she had been tasked with updating Queen Consolidated’s IT security, and it was due to launch in three days time. Felicity was more than proficient at computers, and she knew exactly what to do. It was just a lot to do. It meant late nights, early mornings, and enough caffeine to make every single cell in her body jittery. 

”It broke half an hour ago, they company is sending someone tomorrow to look at it,” a passer-by who took enough pity on her to tell her said. 

”Tomorrow!?” Felicity was wound too tight for a single thing to go wrong. Her caffeine intake had more than just her not falling asleep resting on it. It had her focus, and the three hundred and fifty separate codes to write, resting on it. There was certainly about a hundred coffee machines across the building, but in her nearly 3 years of working in this building that particular machine had been her trusty companion. She did not know where the other machines were, and she did not desire a treasure hunt to find one. 

What would be her fifth cup of coffee that morning was delayed by the unnecessary progress report she had to write up for the day. Oliver Queen the prodigal son of Robert and Moira Queen had returned to Starling City six months earlier after a 5 year long mystical disappearance, and was currently the bane of Felicity’s existence. While he certainly was good looking, and disarmingly sweet most of the time, he was a control freak. And he was a control freak who for some inexplicable reason was her direct supervisor, though he probably wouldn’t know what an operating system was without her spelling it out for him in a progress report. 

The time she had spent on that report was time she was not getting coffee. Now she was staring down an empty cup willing it to magically fill up with the blessed liquid. It was her gasoline. 

She deposited the cup that was now rendered useless into the washing machine, and left for the Starbucks just across the street. Usually she avoided the place because the proximity it had to several major headquarters. The lines were often outrageous in her opinions, and the baristas didn’t seem to have a single moment to breathe. After a year in high school spent working at a McDonald’s in one of Las Vegas most tourist dense spots the empathy she felt for the workers bordered towards wanting to cry 

From time to time she went there. Like when she craved a calorific caffeinated drink and didn’t have the time or energy to venture further from the city’s business center. Or, in cases like these; when there was a caffeine emergency. She didn’t want to consider the many trips she would need to take to survive the day, nor the hole it would burn in her wallet. Now she was in survival mode. 

Luckily when she pushed the glass doors open to the coffee shop the line only consisted of four people. Two of them seemed to be assistants of some sort, based on the long list of coffee orders that was scribbled onto a piece of paper, and their constant glances at their phones. She gauged that it would take quite a while before it would be her turn. Now was a good time as any to get caught up on a few e-mails that she knew littered her inbox, but had been moved down the priority chain for the time being. 

Nothing in her inbox was particularly urgent. There was a reminder about a meeting that for some reason hadn’t been linked to her calendar that she put in manually. Otherwise most people had respected the notification that she wasn’t the one to turn to when the computer glitched. 

”The line’s moving,” a deep voice said behind her. Startled the phone nearly flew from her hand, and a yelp that grew into a double-yelp as she had to fumble to regain a grip of the phone. ”Didn’t mean to startle you.” The smirk was audible in his voice. She knew that voice anywhere. 

”Mr. Queen.” She was still catching her breath, but took a step forward towards the counter. ”Didn’t expect… that you’d be here.” It didn’t escape her that he was the reason why she was delayed. That was still something that was very much at the forefront of her mind. 

”Didn’t think that I’d fetch my own coffee?” If this had been her first encounter with Oliver Queen then that smile might have been as disarming as he intended it to be. Now it was only a little disarming, like a bandaid on her anger. 

”Never crossed my mind, actually.” She wanted to be snippy, not rambling like she usually was. Because she had just wanted one cup of coffee. The fifth one, to be more precise. ”I don’t usually think about whether on not my bosses get their own coffees, it’s actually good that you get your own coffee, because I’m sure everyone has better things to do than to bring you coffee. Not you, I mean… everyone, than bringing everyone coffee.”

”Want to get coffee somewhere else?” His smiled sparkled again, it was genuine but something underneath it that she couldn’t quite figure out. His eyes weren’t completely on her, like he couldn’t quite stand still. It looked like he wanted to bolt out of the coffee shop.

”If you read the progress report I sent you, which you should’ve read by the way thank you very much, you should know that I barely have time for this,” she gestured with her hand towards the line. ”I’m going to get my coffee, and then I’m going to go back to my office and I’m going to write code so the system is ready to go live in three days.” She stepped up in the line again. 

”I haven’t read it yet, I will… with my coffee.” He paused. ”You write very fast.” 

”I work in IT, I have to write fast.” She stepped up to the counter. ”One brewed coffee, venti please, two sugars.” Though a caramel latte with a double expresso shot and whipped cream on top sounded wonderful, she had a few bags of gummy bears in her drawer that was already her indulgence of choice. 

”I’ll pay for hers,” he jumped in before she could hand over money to the barista. 

”No.” 

”Yes, consider it an… insufficient thank you for the hard work you’re putting in,” he said and tilted his head and smiled when she shot him a glare in response. 

”Okay, thank you.” As good as she was with computer was just as awkward she was with other people. Very awkward. If Oliver Queen had been a computer she would have known what was wrong by now, but now she could only watch as he made his own order. Thanks to the simplicity of their orders, neither consisting of more than one ingredient, she was quickly served. 

”I have to get back.” She grabbed a sleeve for her coffee, her fingers used to keyboards but not heat. 

”Wait, I was meaning to ask…” He trailed off, waiting for her to turn around with her lips pursed tight as she resisted the need to drum her fingers against her elbow as her arms were crossed over her chest. ”Is it possible to make this… security system into a product? Because I think with a few tweaks we could market it to banks.”

”I guess I could look at it. We would have to make a baseline for the company to review to see if it’s even worth it.” She shrugged, not really understanding the urgency in needing to ask this now in a Starbucks of all places. ”If you’re willing to shoulder the project then we can set up a meeting for next week to look it over. Right now I, clearly, don’t have time for it.” Though she tried not to look stressed, her voice reached a pitch that it only ever reacher when her stress levels started reaching heart-attack levels. She needed to be back at her desk 10 minutes ago.

”Yes, right… absolutely.” His coffee order was announced, and he picked the tiny cup used for the fancy espresso drinkers. It was like he meant to brag, she thought, but couldn’t even bring herself to feel an ounce of distain for him. ”I’ll walk back with you.”

The door had just swung shut behind them in their so far 10 awkward steps beside each other when he suddenly pulled her to him, and they tumbled down on the ground. She hit the sidewalk with her wrist first, and a sharp pain shot up her arm, and then her cheek hit the gravel. Despite the confusion on why Oliver Queen had tackled her to the ground, and the pain that came with it, she could hear the sounds of bullets hitting the vacant metal chairs that stood outside of the coffee shop. Three shots rung out, and she couldn’t see who was shooting because her cheek was pressed against the sidewalk, and all she could see were the scrambling feet of the people who were left inside. Then there was the sound of tires screeching, and a car that sped away faster than the legal limit. 

”Are you alright?” Oliver asked, brushing her hair away from her face to get a look at her, and then his eyes surveyed her body. He breathed a sigh of relief when didn’t see any blood. 

”I think my wrist is broken.” Considering that she had survived a drive-by shooting she knew that she should feel relieve to be left with only a broken wrist. But it would but a serious damper on completing the project before the deadline. ”Are you alright?” She caught herself in her wallowing, remembering that he was the one who was lying on top of her. 

”Yeah, I’m fine. They missed us both.” He sat down on the pavement and looked around, and she did the same. No one was hurt that they could see, only some shocked people who straggled around with phones clutched to their ears. Some of them were bound to be on the phone with the police. 

”Oh frack. My coffee.” God was sending a clear message that she needed to cut down on her caffeine intake. But not even a hail of bullets could stop her, and not god either. The coffee had luckily been knocked out of her hand when she fell, and not spilt on her. Getting burned by coffee would’ve been the icing on the Rachel Green trifle. 

”I’ll get you another one.” Oliver had clearly not been as lucky as she had, but only one of his grey trouser legs had been stained by the small contents of the espresso he had ordered. 

”Thanks,” she frowned at him, and then down at her wrist that already had started to swell and take on an ominously blue hue. ”Could you also arrange a trip to the ER as well?” She cradled the wrist to her chest, wincing as it bumped against her. 

Oliver did not need to do anything, because within minutes both police and an ambulance had arrived with the lights flashing off of the sleek surfaces of the office buildings surrounding it. With a crowd of people that whispered behind their hands she was the only one who was put in the back of the bus. The scraped cheek tattled that she had taken a rough fall to the ground, and had the paramedics concerned about a head injury. 

Despite arriving in an ambulance in it took hours before a doctor came to see her. Thanks to perfect memory recall of five random words, and passable answers to the rest of his inquiries, she was sent upstairs for an x-ray. It was another two hours before she got the result of the x-ray, which showed a clear break of her bones. A large cast later she was sent on her way with a prescription of pain meds that were only slightly stronger than the over the counter medicine. While she waited for the result a police officer took her statement, which she could admit wasn’t helpful at all.

By the time she was discharged it was dark outside. Since she had arrived to the ER in an ambulance her car was still back at Queen Consolidated, meaning she was reliant on a cab to get her home. The chill in the air betrayed that it was still early spring, despite the warm weather during the day. She was definitely not dressed for this. 

As she fished her phone out of her purse someone called out her name. It was a man, but it wasn’t Oliver. She twisted around on her heel, careful not to topple over and break her other wrist. She caught silver hair and a shadowed figure slightly taller than the average man. 

”Yes?” With a voice in her head screaming rapist at her she took a step forward to get a better look at him. From where she stood in the bright glare from the spotlights outside of the ER she couldn’t see anything in the shadows. He took a step forward at the same time, and she could see his face.

She knew that face. It was one that would look over at her as he showed her how the computer he was building worked. Now his hair was grey instead of brown, and age had worn his face down from the smooth planes she remembered her father’s cheeks having.

”Dad?” The last time she saw him he’d been typing on his keyboard and she had given him a good night kiss on his cheek. When her mother woke her up the next morning with bags already packed her father had left for work. She was 7 years old, and even though she didn’t understand why her mother was taking her across the country and telling her that her surname wasn’t Kuttler anymore, she understood the look on her mother’s face. 

”We need to get out of the street.” He didn’t say hello, didn’t say anything about why he didn’t come after them. As she got older she knew that he could’ve found them if he wanted to. He had the knowledge, the intelligence to figure it out if he wanted to. 

”That’s all you’re going to say?” She didn’t move an inch either way. 

”Felicity, I’ll explain everything to you, but right now we need to get out of here before someone tries to kill you again!” She would’ve described his voice as roaring hadn’t his voiced strained to keep as quiet as possible. 

”Kill me? You mean… the shooting… they were at me?” That she was still not budging didn’t help the frustration that was shining out of her father’s eyes. ”Why?”

”I will tell you everything if you just come with me.” His hand reached forward, and he beckoned at her to come. 

”That’s impossible.” She blinked rapidly, and shook her head as if she could shake off what she was being told. It wasn’t impossible, impossible was just highly improbable. Especially since there was no reason why anyone would want her dead. 

”They’re going after you because of me.” He sighed. ”And it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. So come with me.” His hand twitched as he held it out again for her. 

”Fine, but you have a lot of explaining to do, okay?” In her mind she was aware that she sounded more like a mom scolding her child than a daughter, but she didn’t like being in the dark. Especially not the kind of dark where she can’t even imagine the truth that was behind this. Who was her father? And why the hell did that put her in danger?

He took her to a motel room by Star City station. It smelled of mold, and the walls were infested with smoke. It was obvious that it wasn’t where he slept, because the room was completely bare save for a single computer that he placed on the bed when they walked in. The sound carried from another room, but she couldn’t place which one, of some people arguing. When the two of them stood there next to each other in silence she could almost make out the words. Wait, she thought, they’re not arguing. It was definitely rent by the hour. 

There was a desk with a chair that had probably seen the 80’s, and for the long day she had had she decided that chair was hers to sit in. The silence that stretched between them was heavy and uncomfortable like an ill-fitting boot. She’d worn enough of ill fitting boots to recognize the feeling. 

”So, want to tell me why I’m here? Why people want me dead?” She crossed her legs, and watched her father — that she was in the same room as her dad was something she would just have to process later. 

”I’m in Bratva,” when he saw her confused face he added, ”the Russian maffia. I joined before you were born.” He opened up the computer and turned the screen to face her. ”I got ordered to write a code for a program a few months back, which caused instability, and that has triggered a power struggle and that is where you come in. Some thinks I have too much power now.” 

”So killing me is a power move?” she frowned. ”That doesn’t make me feel nearly as important as how I felt before when you said… Wait, that doesn’t matter. Won’t they try to kill me again, since they were clearly not successful?” She watched the numbers on the screen, revealing little about the sort of program he had written. She was too far away to see the code it contained.

”Probably, but their son seems to not share his parent’s idea on how to deal with all of this, he was the one who saved you today.” He shut the computer and sat down on the bed next to it. ”Which is a good thing, for both of us.”

”Wait, the Queens, my employer, are a part of Bratva, and they want to have me killed?” Her eyebrows knotted together as she turned the idea over in her head for a few seconds. ”That’s very stupid of them. And I don’t mean stupid as in that I’m so arrogant that they couldn’t kill me, because let’s be honest they wouldn’t have to try very hard for that one. I mean, I’m two days from launching a security system that could save them millions of dollars, so why would they do it today, and not say… this weekend?”

”Power struggles tend to be messy, and they also become inconvenient. They probably thought they would gain more by asserting their power in the family,” he shrugged. ”For owners of a tech company it’s strange that they don’t appreciate the work we do for a living.” He stood up and reached for her purse that was standing on the floor, and before she could voice her protest he had dug her phone out of the bag. ”But it’s a good thing that Oliver Queen didn’t agree with the decision, that gives us leverage.” 

”I’m not a pawn you can use to gain power,” she shook her head. ”There has to be another way.” 

”I think Oliver Queen might be the answer to that.” He handed her the phone. ”Call him, tell him to meet us at the plaza, he will know what you mean. He is the key to saving your life Felicity.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments on the previous chapter! I hope you like this chapter too/even more. The next chapter will probably be up next weekend!

The plaza was, as she suspected, not a place which was particularly fancy. Maybe it was growing up in Vegas that made her associate the word plaza with pancake houses rather than grand hotels or restaurants. This plaza was a bit more extravagant than a pancake plaza. She figured the town house with the black door was as nondescript as possible for a billionaire family to disappear into without people questioning it. 

Her hand had started to ache in the car over, as the pain killers she had gotten hours ago started to wear off. As soon as she commented to her father that she wanted a glass of water a woman with slavic features materialized in a doorway informing her that beverages were on their way. 

The living room they walked into could have been in nearly any house in America. There were two couches that had both been pushed against a wall, with a flat screen TV on the opposite wall of one of the couches. It was standing on a large entertainment system that reached up to the ceiling, and was filled with DVDs, VHS, and various gadgets that were really they only display of riches in the room. She could see anyone in that room, even a child sitting on that couch drinking a can of coke while playing on the PS. It was an odd juxtaposition of the normalcy of this place, and the ongoings within it.

Weren’t they, after all, in this house to negotiate with her bosses for her life? 

How did one negotiate for their own life? She turned the question over in her mind, flipping it around and twisting it as if it were a Rubik’s cube. There was the fantastical idea that it would somehow involve Russian roulette, or that Robert would suddenly take on the Italian American accent that all mob bosses she had seen on TV had. It occurred to her though that Robert most likely wasn’t a mob boss, though. If they had been then Felicity wouldn’t have been caught in the crosshairs as collateral damage in a power move. All ideas cluttered her head, and she welcomed the cold glass of water that was placed in front of her. 

It took fifteen minutes for the Queens to all arrive, sans Thea Queen who was still a minor. During that time her father flipped on the TV, and they sat stiffly side by side as a hit TV-show she sometimes watched played. Just as a fight was about to break out between two characters they heard the front door opening. In an instant her father had turned the TV off which left the room in heavy silence. Quiet murmurs was the only thing that could be heard from the hall. Otherwise the house was completely silent. 

”Noah,” Moira Queen said as she walked into the room, a tight but welcoming smile gracing her face. 

”Moira,” her father answered with a curt nod, but neither moved to say hello. 

”Robert and Oliver will be in shortly… you must be Felicity.” Moira took the steps towards her and held out a welcoming hand. Not wanting to be impolite Felicity grasped it in hers, but couldn’t quite understand how someone who wanted her dead was now shaking her hand. ”You still take after your mother. I haven’t seen her in years but I remember that she was beautiful.” It seemed odd to Felicity the familiar way Moira spoke of her mother, as if she had been acquainted with the cocktail waitress from Las Vegas. Not that she considered her mother’s job as less of anything, but a billionaire and a cocktail waitress tended to only meet at a bar. 

She wanted to blurt out the question of why Moira wanted her dead, and how gaining power could justify anyone’s death, but considered it wiser to stay quiet. Moira sat down on the other couch, smoothing out the pencil skirt underneath her as she did. Despite the late hour Moira looked as flawless as she did at anytime of the day, and it struck Felicity that she hadn’t looked at a mirror since that morning. Based on the TV show that aired it must have been nearing ten at night. Her growling stomach confirmed that it hadn’t been fed today. 

Oliver and Robert entered the room side by side, Oliver’s eyes quickly flashing over to Felicity’s and gave her a once-over to check that she was alright. Whatever he saw he seemed satisfied, and walked ahead of his father to sit down next to his mother on the couch. The matriarch and patriarch of the family both looked stoic as they sat, but the tightness of Oliver’s jaw betrayed him. 

”I’ve informed Felicity of the events of today,” her father said, his voice pointed and proud, hitting the Queens like silver bullets. Still, they remained expressionless. 

”It was unfortunate that your daughter got mixed up in this, but Noah, you left us with no choice.” Moira’s head shook as she spoke. ”Challenging the hierarchy that has been in place for generations does not go unpunished, you should know that.”

”My expertise and helpfulness to Bratva has earned me the place I’m taking today, it is not up to you to decide where in the hierarchy I belong.” His hand hovered above Felicity’s shoulder, almost touching it and claiming her as a part of whatever he was. But she wasn’t a part of this. 

”Noah,” Robert’s bass voice cut in, speaking for the first time since entering. ”You should know by now how delicate the structure that makes all of this function is. When our power is undermined by an outsider that has potentially devastating consequences on the work our family has put in to it, and to limit our ability to be able to do what we do, we have to act.”

”You know you don’t have the backing of the Bratva to do this.” She tuned the conversation out, it didn’t give her man hints anyway as to what the motivation for wanting to kill her was. Maybe that was just was the maffia did: kill people because it was the only way they knew how to do something. She tried to catch Oliver’s eyes, but they were firmly planted at his feet. Despite that he was 27 he looked more like a 15 year old boy who was awaiting a punishment for his teenage crimes. 

”There is one way we can stop this,” Moira Queen said, her voice pulling Felicity from her thoughts. ”If we do nothing then all of our children are in danger, and if we do something then we put our children in danger, and if you Noah try to continue what you’re doing then someone is going to go after Felicity, even if we promise not to.” Death, it appeared, was as much of a part of this power struggle as any place in a hierarchy. Someone would pay the price no matter what.

”And what do you propose as a solution, Moira?” The mocking tone in her father’s voice settled like a bad burrito in her stomach. 

”Oliver and Felicity get married,” Moira said. 

”What!?” It was the first thing Felicity had said since they left the motel room, and it burst out of her before she could stop it. Marriage seemed like a very rash and archaic solution to the problem. 

”Felicity, I know your mother left with you before you found out about the Bratva, and that you don’t know much about us, but our family has been in it for generations, and though marriage may be a contract of love in the rest of the world… within Bratva it is also a contract of peace and of joining two families together as one whole.” Her eyes pierced into Felicity’s as if she was trying to tattoo the importance of what she was saying into Felicity’s retina. ”It is the only way that Bratva will consider this matter settled.”

Oliver looked up to meet Felicity’s eyes, but his expression was unreadable. Marriage meant something different to Felicity than to them. Marriage was forever, and it wasn’t forever because of the threat of death looming over them, but because you decided to take on life together. All the challenges, battles, and good times were to be taken on as partners. She wasn’t sure if forever was something she could take on with the anal supervisor that had been the bane of her existence the past weeks. 

”Is that…. how long?” She’d already guessed it, but she wanted to know for sure.

”A divorce would nullify all obligations between our family, and we would be back here again. Unless the two of you have a child, that could stabilize the relationship, but even that is not certain,” Moira said. A child? Wasn’t that presumptuous, Felicity thought. 

”When would they get married?” her father asked. Felicity kept her eyes on Oliver, and he on her. She would be his wife? She didn’t even know him. 

”The sooner the better,” Robert said. ”We can make arrangements at the court house this week, and then we can have a ceremony for friends and family later on in the year.”

”Why so soon?” she asked.

”Because as long as we’re not married my sister and us are in danger, someone could come after us at any time now,” Oliver said. She expected his voice to betray something of what he was feeling, but he only seemed deflated as if he’d already had this conversation a thousand times today. 

”So we do it tomorrow,” Felicity said, earning her first true reaction from Oliver since he’d walked into the room. His eyebrows shot up his forehead, and his back straightened just slightly. ”It’s not just for you and me, your sister deserves to feel safe.” The surprised look melted into a smile.

”Thank you,” Oliver said, though his smile quickly started to fade despite how genuine his thanks was. 

”You understand what a marriage means here, right?” Moira asked, pulling Felicity’s focus from Oliver. ”You’re going to live together, share a bed, do everything a married couple does, because if the legitimacy of your marriage is questioned and proven as not real, then you might as well have not married each other at all.” Her head was swimming. It was too much in one day. The shooting, her father coming back into her life, finding out people wanted her dead, and now being arranged to be married, and not fake married either. 

”It means we have to consummate the marriage,” Oliver elaborated, shooting a look at his mother that Felicity didn’t understand what it meant. 

”Children too,” Moira said. ”Not straight away, but eventually people would expect that from you.” 

Felicity stood up, unable to sit still and be bombarded with the new rules of her life. Pacing the length of the room she tried to imagine a life with Oliver, but came up blank. She knew hardly anything about him, only that he had been gone for 5 years and just as he disappeared he mysteriously reappeared earlier that year. Before he disappeared he had been a party boy with a new girl on his arm each week. When he’d returned she’d googled him to understand what it was people were talking about. Back then he’d been a lanky and attractive boy, with a goofy smile that was now erased from his face. The smile that had been there before was gone. He was no longer a boy, he was a man that didn’t laugh anymore. 

”I’m 22,” Felicity said. ”I’ve just started my career, and I’m…” Children. She figured she wanted a child some day, but she didn’t like the idea of a child being demanded of her. ”I’m 22.” It was her only defense. 

”We don’t expect the two of you to start a family before you are ready, you are right in that you are very young Felicity, and that gives you time that you otherwise might not have had,” Moira assured her. 

“What do you think?” she asked the quiet Oliver. 

“That we have no choice,” he said. 

“This must be the most romantic proposal ever,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t think anyone heard what she said, but there was a glimmer in Oliver’s eyes as he tilted his head at her. That man has super hearing, she thought. “Okay, fine.” She threw her hands up in the air. 

“Felicity and I will go to the courthouse tomorrow,” Oliver finished for her, offering something that felt akin to support. “Tommy will go with me, Felicity do you have a friend that could act as a witness?” 

“Uh…” To be honest she had lived a solitary life since moving to Starling. There were coworkers she sometimes went to lunch with but no one she considered a friend to be a witness when she got married. 

“We could ask my friends Sara or Laurel to come along?” he offered. 

“No Oliver, your exes are not going to be witnesses to your wedding,” Robert interrupted. 

“I have one friend who might be able to come, if we do it in the afternoon?” She’d met Barry at a conference earlier in the year, and the two of them had kept contact since then. They’d both thought that eventually their lives would bring them together, because there was an attraction there that neither of them could deny. Though she knew he was in love with someone who didn’t love him back, he’d confessed to having lost faith that they’d ever be anything more than friends. Felicity and Barry made sense in a way that others didn’t. They were similar, they like the same things, worked in similar fields. It would have never been the magical love that books get written about. Felicity thought that she was okay with that, but facing marriage now she began to question if she truly didn’t believe that one day she would’ve been able to experience that magic. Now it wouldn’t be for her to know.

“Sure, it would give us time to fill out all of the paperwork before,” Moira took a day-planner out of the purse she had placed next to her, and opened it up. “Come by my office at 9am tomorrow Felicity and there’ll be papers there for you to sign, I took the liberty of alerting our lawyer earlier today.”

“What about the deadline for the security system?” She interrupted. There were many important questions to ask, but she took her work seriously and didn’t want to fall on the goal line. 

“Because of your injury we expected that you wouldn’t be able to finish the code on time,” because you thought I’d be dead more likely Felicity corrected in her head. “We’ve extended the deadline and someone else will be writing the final parts of it, with your help of course.” Her smile was anything but warm. Felicity looked to her father that was sitting silently next to her throughout all of this. He hadn’t had a single injection, objection, or thought to add to the conversation. He was the one in this mess that was supposed to advocate for her best interest, but it appeared that once her life was secure he didn’t have any more concerns for her. A sudden pang of longing for her mom struck her, and she knew that she needed to call her tonight. She wasn’t sure that she’d understand why she was doing this. 

They talked through some of what would happen tomorrow. Oliver and Felicity would live together, and since Oliver hadn’t gotten his own place yet since coming back they’d be living in her apartment temporarily. The security wasn’t to the Queen’s standard in the building, so starting tomorrow they’d have to look for a place more suitable for them to live in. Since Oliver was Felicity’s supervisor he would be transferred to another department to keep in line with company policy. After a while she demanded a break from the onslaught of information and demands, picking up her phone and dialing Barry’s number.

She was lucky that he wasn’t one of those people who went to bed at 9pm, so he was still awake when she called  
. He was naturally taken aback by her odd request. 

“Is this a shotgun wedding?” he asked. She had never mentioned Oliver Queen before, not even as her supervisor, so it was natural that he was confused. 

“I’m not pregnant Barry, but I’ll explain the best I can tomorrow…” She looked over at Oliver who was sitting by himself on the couch staring at his clasped hands in deep concentration. What were they going to tell people? Obviously the easiest explanation would be an office romance, and then let the rumors do the rest of the talking. Maybe people would think she was pregnant? That rumour would be killed when in a few months she doesn’t start showing. “It’s complicated.”

The call to her mother she could do later. Her mother was probably getting off her shift within the next hour, so she could call then. As she hung up with Barry she looked over at Oliver.

“So… was this an office romance or?” she trailed off, waiting for him to look up at her. “I know it’s cliché and maybe not something you’d want associated with yourself, but I think office romance rings better than getting married to avoid getting killed because our parents are in the maffia. That by the way I wouldn’t have guessed. I’m usually kind of perceptive, but I’m not like amazing at it, but I would’ve thought I’d be able to pick up on that my bosses were in the mob. That actually makes me feel a little… dumb. Huh, haven’t felt dumb in a while.” She stopped her rambling when Oliver looked up at her with a silencing glance. “I’ll shut up now.”

“No it’s nice... “ He cracked a smile. “But I think office romance sounds good. Simple. A short period of dating, and an even shorter engagement…. Yeah, that could work. It’s almost the truth.” 

“This is as strange to you as it is to me, huh?” she asked, walking up to the couch he was sitting on, and sat down on the opposite end. Until tomorrow she felt that she needed distance between them. What their wedding night would be like she didn’t want to think about yet. While he certainly looked good she had never actually had sex with someone she didn’t have feelings for. She’d only ever had sex with her ex Cooper, and that had turned out disastrously. It kind of turned her off sex for a while. It’d been 3 years since then, and sexual frustration sometimes got to her, but she hadn’t felt a huge need to change that. Now she was looking at the person who’d in a near future would break her involuntary celibacy. 

“Yeah, this isn’t how we usually do marriage,” he answered. “They’re not bad people, my parents you know.” He rubbed his hands together. “This was them trying to keep me and my sister safe, this whole thing is more complicated than we could ever explain in one night. It wasn’t about them becoming more powerful at your expense.” They sat in silence for a few long seconds, allowing her to take in what he was saying. “Your father put them in a fight or die situation with what he did. And you were their only way of fighting back.”

“But you stopped them,” she finished for him. “You didn’t risk just your life by protecting me from those bullets, you risked your life by…”

“I almost didn’t.” The confession dropped like a stone in the room. “But I couldn’t let an innocent person die so that I could live, that wasn’t fair.” 

“So that’s why we’re getting married,” she thought out loud. “Because I lived.” He left the statement unanswered, but she didn’t need to hear it. Never had she felt so guilty for being alive. Now she was dragging another person into this mess because of it. She knew, logically, that it wasn’t she that should bear the guilt, but still she did. She didn’t know if anyone else would.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you so much everyone for your comments on this story! It means so much to me, I can't even express it properly, haha... 
> 
> If you want to follow me on social media my username is the same on twitter, tumblr, and fanfiction.net as it is here (ff has about 60 or so fics I've written for various fandoms over the past 10 years, ranging from very poor to alright in quality ;) )
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

“Mom?” she shouted into the phone. “Can you hear me mom?” 

“Sweetie, how are you? I just saw what happened!” Her mother’s shrill worried voice carried over the phone. “I saw that and it’s just outside where you work, they said that Oliver Queen boy saved a woman from being hit by a bullet!”

“I uh…” It was easier to think about telling her mom about her near brush with death than to actually do it. “It was me, the one who Oliver saved.” She scratched the back of her head, wincing as the silence stretched on on the other side of the phone. 

“What? Why didn’t you call me?” 

“You know dad, mom?” She wished that she was horizontal and face down in a pillow at this moment. “He showed up.” 

“What… why?” Even through the phone Felicity knew how her mother looked by the sound of her voice. Hand pressed to the top of her chest and a fallen face. When it came to her dad her mother was always insecure. 

“I know what he did, or does… and it was because of that.” Her mother’s silence didn’t bode well, but Felicity continued. “There’s a solution, and I know you’re not going to like it… The Queens do the same thing that dad does, and by marrying Oliver it’ll be fine.”  
“You’re getting married Felicity!?” Her voice was back to the high octave voice she had answered with. “No, no, not like that honey, that’s not how you get married to someone.”

“I don’t have really have a choice mom-”

“What you do is you get out of there, you do what I did darling, and you get the hell away from that man. Come back to Vegas sweetie,” her mother interrupted her, pleading with her.

“Mom, listen to me.” When her mother didn’t say anything she continued. “They’ll find me, mom, and it’s not just about me it’s… complicated.” 

“Baby I’m so sorry, I should have done a better job hiding you.”

“Hey, hey it’s okay, I’m going to be okay, you did great mom.”

It took another ten minutes to calm her mother down. When she wanted to cry herself she felt pathetic at consoling her mother. Every word she said felt heavy in her stomach, and she just wished she had someone to tell her that it was going to be alright. By the time she hung up the phone she could taste the saltiness of tears and the lump was thick in her throat. 

Despite being exhausted, and only just now feeling the withdrawal from the coffee. She resisted the urge to make herself a cup, the long day making itself known deep in her bones. With one hand she washed her face, scrubbing off the worn make-up that had started to cake on her face. Not even the makeup did a good job anymore hiding the dark circles. 

It was strange knowing that tomorrow night someone would be brushing their teeth in her bathroom, sleeping in the bed next to her. Oliver Queen would be her husband in just a couple of hours. Would she be Felicity Queen, and not Felicity Smoak anymore? It would be her third surname in her life. She wasn’t attached to her surname, and maybe that was because she had to change it at age 7. To deal with that she treated the name as a suffix, not something that defined her family or lineage. Kuttler was her father, and her grandparents. Smoak was the first surname her mother saw in a newspaper when she decided to flee. It only represented leaving. 

So she decided that she could take his surname without any grief, if he wanted her to. Felicity Queen. She said it out loud to test it. It sounded weird, not like herself. Either way, whoever she was before today would cease to exist. In a way that person was already fading. 

It was the exhaustion that allowed her to sleep. She didn’t think that her mind would let her rest, but she was pulled under as soon as her bed hit the pillow. Though she was woken suddenly in the early morning from sleep from a dream, but all she could remember of it was that it had ended with Oliver saying “I do”. When she hit the clock to make it light up and show the time it was only 5am. 

An early start was as good as anything. She knew that without the exhaustion of the day she would not be able to fall back asleep. Already her mind cluttered with the thoughts of what her future held in store for her. Most pressing were the thoughts of their wedding night. 

They had to consummate the marriage. Oliver had said as much, and no one had disagreed with him. She doubted that they would be able to trick anyone into thinking they’d actually had sex if they didn’t. Somehow she knew that they’d figure it out. The marriage had to be legal to be valid. 

She ran her fingers along her legs. She waxed her legs frequently because of the dresses she wore, but the coarse hairs could be felt as she touched her legs. Because of her schedule she’d taken to sloppy shaves while still half asleep in the mornings. The hairs were long enough to wax again. 

She put on the coffee pot to brew her some coffee while she waxed and took a shower. Then she placed her casted arm in a plastic bag, sealing it up with silver tape to avoid any water to get inside of it. While waiting for the wax to heat up she scrubbed her body from head to toe with the cheap loofa she had picked up during her last grocery run. It was awkward with only one arm, but she reached most places if she put an effort into it.

It was weird to her. The morning before she had taken a five minute shower while she brushed her teeth at the same time because she was rushing to get to work with no clue of what the day had in store for her. Now she was primping herself for a wedding night that she didn’t really want to have. She was sure that sex with a man as attractive as Oliver Queen couldn’t be terrible. Even if he was selfish and boring in bed he must still be nice to look at? Her sexcapades had never been that wild, especially considering there was only one man that would precede Oliver in having sex with her.

As she stripped her legs of hair she regretted not having sex more. A one night stand couldn’t have hurt, right? But those would require her going out and meeting people, which she didn’t. It was too late for regrets, so all she could hope was that she’d get at least one night of good sex out of it. 

She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts of sex. It was hard to focus on the long term consequences of marrying a stranger when what was happening now, today, was about on the same scale as incomprehensible. A flash of Moira talking about children the night before popped into her head, jarring her from all thoughts of sex. 

Sex could lead to babies. Babies wasn’t at all what she wanted now. She was only 22, and while she had about a 5 year headstart on most people her age in terms of education and career, that did not change her age. Though the MTV program about young mothers proved to her that by now she could’ve been a mother to kid in grade school there was nothing that made her feel fit for it. The more she thought about the reality of it, the less she wanted kids ever. 

By the time she had showered and poured herself her first cup of coffee for the day she had had about three panic attacks. All of which were caused by the thought of babies. One moment she’d tell herself to calm down, and that babies were adorable, to be reminded of how terrible parenthood looked. At one point she considered that maybe her being killed was after all the best thing for everyone involved. She was quick to pull herself out of that type of thinking.

Oliver Queen couldn’t be that bad. If he was then he wouldn’t have saved her life yesterday.

That thought brought her back to her dad. 

She toasted bread and spread butter on top of it as she thought of him. He’d been silent all through yesterday night’s talk. Even in the motel room he had been a man of few words. That might’ve been just who he was, the silent and brooding type. He hadn’t been her father for years, and maybe that meant that he couldn’t act like one should. Even though she had grown up without a father she had observed quite a few of them throughout the years. They had ranged from the overprotective father that threatened harm on any boy who neared their daughter, to the abusive ones. Fathers were as unique as people in general, and that helped little in trying to understand her own father. 

By the time 8.15 came around she had redressed herself about a hundred times. Did she want to look like a bride today, or was her normal way of dressing the appropriate atterie? She didn’t want to look like she actually wanted to get married, but she didn’t want to look like she had been forced into it either. There was enough press activity surrounding the Queen family, especially since Oliver’s return, for her to want to aggravate that situation even more. A marriage motivated by politics may have been acceptable a hundred years ago, but she doubted that it would result in anything but negative press for Queen Consolidated and the family. 

She ended up wearing a tight dress that reached her mid-calf. It was both work appropriate and court appropriate. It was grey with colorful panels on the side of her body. Something that looked both cheery and solemn at the same time. That way the Queens wouldn’t be able to say that she was happy to go through with this, and onlookers wouldn’t be able to say that she was unhappy, either. It was a thin line to walk.

Leaving for Queen Consolidated a few minutes later she hadn’t managed to sort out her feelings about anything yet. She was clearly not happy about marrying a stranger, but that was the extent of what she knew of her feelings. Not happy and uncomfortable was how she would describe all of her feelings of everything that was demanded of her now. But, there was no anger, or sadness yet. She suspected that she would feel something eventually. Maybe even just resignation. 

A tall lanky man guided Felicity into Moira Queen’s office a few minutes to 9, offering beverages that she declined. The toast she had eaten for breakfast made her queasy and she didn’t trust her stomach with anything else right now. 

Only a few minutes later Moira entered the office with a lawyer in tow. The lawyer was a dark man with a greying moustache on his top lip that should have been left in the 80’s, but his smile was still warm when she stood up to greet him.

“I’m Felicity Smoak.” He grasped her hand in a firm grip. She’d often heard that you could tell a lot about a person based on how they shake hands. His was secure, and she hoped that would work in her favor.

“And I’m Frank Hendricks,” he replied, releasing her hand as Moira offered them a seat.

“Oliver is out making arrangement for this afternoon, but he will join us before lunch,” Moira said. “I’ve had Mr Hendricks type of a prenuptial agreement, which I hope you understand why it is needed.” Mr Hendricks handed over a few pages of legal documents that he surely could not have managed to get together in just a day. It must’ve been ready for the day when Oliver wanted to marry someone, or is baby sister. Felicity didn’t know how old his sister was, only that she was several years younger. 

“I will give you time to read through the document, and if you have a lawyer you can have them read through it, but this needs to be signed and witnessed before the wedding takes place this afternoon.” He paused for a moment as Felicity flipped over the first page to skim through the second. “It states that if you were to divorce Mr Queen before ten years of marriage then you are not entitled to his estate, but if an accident were to befall Mr Queen his living will would decide if you are entitled to his estate. You would be entitled to alimony if your divorce is filed after 5 years of marriage…” He continued on for a few minutes to highlight what he deemed the most important aspects of the agreement. 

“Just out of curiosity, what would happen if I didn’t want to sign this?” she directed the question to Moira, but she could see Mr Hendricks squirming in his chair while Moira remained characteristically stoic. “I mean this wedding will happen no matter what.”

“Then you would be labeled as a gold digger, Miss Smoak.” It was less of a fact and more of a threat when it fell off of Moira’s lips. “And I doubt the marriage would have the stabilizing effect we desire it to have.” 

“I don’t care about Mr Queen’s money,” Felicity said, “I’ll sign.” 

“You don’t want to read it over-” Mr Hendricks started to protest, but Felicity cut him off.

“It’s not like we have time to make revisions anyway, and it’s not like Oliver or I would divorce anyway.” At least, she didn’t think Oliver and her would divorce each other in the near future because of the overhanging threat on their lives. 

“Okay then, I will call for a notary to be here as soon as possible. I didn’t expect this to be sorted out this quickly,” Mr Hendricks said as he stood up and re-buttoned the one button of his jacket. 

The silence that Mr Hendricks left behind him was deafening. Moira sat in her office chair behind her desk in a comfortable silence, scrutinizing the young Felicity with her gaze.

“You have to know that this isn’t what I wanted for my son, or for anyone,” Moira started. “Robert and I got married when I was 19 and he was 22, and we married because we were in love. I was only 21 when Oliver was born, so I understand your apprehension to having a baby yourself since you are not much older than I was. Still, Oliver became the glue in our marriage, even when Robert and I didn’t love each other like we used to we love each other because we share a great love for our children.”

“No offense Mrs Queen, but I don’t know what this has to do with me.” It was an intriguing story of a mother’s love for sure, but at the moment Felicity found it hard to find headspace for anything but her immediate situation. 

“I want you to know that what we’re doing is out of love.” She paused for a second, before becoming more pointed in her voice. “And when I said yesterday that I expect… children in your marriage to our son that doesn’t have to be something bad for you. Maybe it’s an outdated belief, but within Bratva we see children as forging a bond between families that cannot be broken, as well as forming the most intimate bond between two people as is possible.”

“My mother told me to run, like she ran from my father” Felicity answered. “My father struck this deal with you without saying a word, and I think children create more complications in an already messy situation.” She looked down at the prenup she still held in her hands that, despite only being a few pages thick, felt like it weighed a ton. “Right now I don’t want to think about having children, right now I’m honestly just trying to get used to the idea that I’m going to have to have sex with your son tonight.” Usually her oversharing rants would have her blushing out of embarrassment, but this blush was for the anger that boiled inside of her. 

“I understand Miss Smoak,” Moira remained unphased by the mention of her son’s sexlife. “I hope your mother will understand the choice you made to stay, which I appreciate, so that she can be supportive of you.”

Their talk ended when Mr Hendricks returned, informing them that a notary would be there within a couple of minutes. True to his word only 10 minutes later a notary arrived, as did Oliver. He acknowledged her only with a tight smile. Along with the prenup the two of them also signed a marriage license that would be expedited in order to be approved before their time-slot at the courthouse. Because of Queen connections they were going to marry Felicity and Oliver after it had been closed for business for the day. That way they minimized the risk of being caught by paparazzi, especially since they still didn’t have a gameplan for how to approach them. 

Felicity knew little about paparazzi or gossip magazines, mostly because the only time she read them was at her hairdresser’s. Though she went there fairly often to dye her roots the contents of the magazines were never anything she memorized. The basics were that they were intrusive, annoying, and sometimes very loud. She figured that she was about to get an intensive course in it once someone managed to find them in the public marriage records. 

“I’ve uh, got something for you,” Oliver said when all the papers were signed, and the two of them were left alone in Moira’s office as they waited for lunch. Moira had been called off to a meeting, and Mr Hendricks was on his way to the courthouse to file the papers they’d signed. 

“You did?” she shifted in the chair she had been sitting in for far too long now. 

“I bought rings… I didn’t know your ring size so I guessed, but we can get it refitted for you.” He held a small black box over to her. She took it from him and opened it. The ring was a silver band with what Felicity guessed was a clear diamond square and two small roses next to it. It was more of an engagement ring than a wedding ring, but it was beautiful. 

“Wow, Oliver… it’s gorgeous.” She touched gently the band as if it would break if she put too much pressure on it. “You really shouldn’t have.” 

“I wanted to,” he said. “I didn’t want to be too presumptuous but I figured that you didn’t have a dress that suited for a wedding, so I bought a few dresses you can chose from if you want.” She held in the sigh of relief. While she didn’t want to get married today she didn’t want to get married in a grey dress she wore to the office from time to time. Even if their marriage wasn’t ideal, or wanted, she wanted to look pretty on her wedding day. Oliver had just taken the pressure off of her, and that was honestly a weight off of her shoulders. It might’ve been something that others may see as a minor detail, but it was huge to her in a situation like this. 

While they waited for the lunch still she borrowed Moira’s personal bathroom that was joined to her office. Oliver brought her two bags with two dresses in each. They were perfect. She would never have guessed that Oliver had an eye for pretty dresses. Maybe, she thought with a smile, he’d employed the help of someone. 

The one she fell in love with was a white dress that reached mid calf, and it had a jewel neckline and peplum. The bodice was almost sheer, and she thanked that she wore her white bra for the day, with a slight opening between her breasts that gave only the slight hint of the skin hiding underneath. It was not too far off from what she usually would chose to wear, and she wouldn’t be scared to breathe in it thanks to the peplum detail. 

 

She undressed again, putting on the dress she wore before as she glanced over at her chosen dress that now hung on a hanger over the doorframe. Her wedding dress wasn’t too bad at all. It was incredibly nice of him to buy a dress, several dresses, for her. 

The buzzing of her phone pulled her from her thoughts. She picked it up from where she had put it on the sink. There were two missed texts. It was rare that she missed a text during her waking hours since her phone was usually always within her eyesight. 

Remember that I love u bby kisses from mom the first text said. It was sent an hour earlier, and Felicity guessed she sent it as she ate breakfast, and knew that it was her mom’s way of saying that she was supporting her daughter. 

The second text was from Barry. I’m leaving Central City now, ETA 3.30pm. Btw Iris is coming as well. See you soon! 

Iris was the woman Barry had had a crush on since they both were children, and Felicity couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the two of them being together. If the universe could get them together at last then maybe she could live with life as it was. Love may not be in the cards for her, but other people could have what she didn’t. If Iris hadn’t realized that she was crazy for Barry yet then Felicity was going to give her a little push. 

She sent a heart emoji to her mother, feeling spent of words, and a short reply to Barry to let him know she’d seen his message. 

With the support of her mother, in the presence of her only friend, she would marry the man who waited for her on the other side of the bathroom door in a few hours. A stranger in many ways, but her one and only lifeline. She had a ring, a dress, and a prenup signed. 

“Wow. How did this happen?” she asked herself, feeling like she knew not even half of the answer to that question.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just discovered that I posted this story as an F/F story for some reason. Which is obviously wrong. Don't know how that happened, it's rectified now. Also I posted my social media accounts in last chapter... my social media accounts are under some major fandom changes etc. so I really don't suggest following me unless you're okay with a massively chaotic mess.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your comments and kudos. It means more than I can say, and it... makes my week. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

She took three deep breaths outside the door to the courtroom. Everything had gone well up until this point. 

The small salad she ordered for lunch had been largely left untouched, but whenever Oliver glanced her way she would take a small bite of the chicken. It wasn’t often, but occasionally his eyes would wander over to her, and his eyes would drop to the boxed salad which ended with him frowning at it. He seemed to have a thing about food. She didn’t usually have a problem with food. She loved food, and that love affair got problematic at times. If she ate as much as she wanted she probably would’ve been about 40 pounds heavier. 

Food just wasn’t her thing today. 

Even the time after lunch was okay. She had even managed to get in some time to work and meet the temp that would help her write the remaining code. The temp wasn’t too bad, and had sufficient experience in the field to be more than just her hands for the coming weeks. The cast had to stay on for 4 weeks before she could take it off, and then it could take a while for her to regain full mobility of her hand. Which was why she was optimistic about having someone help her that was fluent in coding. 

It was after her two hour work window that things started to go downhill. When she put on the dress again the high neck felt like it was tightening around her neck. The white fabric made her scared to drink the coffee she desperately craved. It was confining and claustrophobic. 

She was thankful for Barry’s arrival had distracted her from yanking on the neckline of the dress to crack the hard seam that pushed against her airways. He wore a suit that looked just like a suit any man would wear to a wedding. It was blue and perfectly tailored for him, with a crisp white button down underneath, and matching blue slacks. Even his shoes were shiny. When she saw his shoes, and then Iris’ brown leather ankle boots, she tried to tuck her own feet in to hide them, but there was nothing to hide them behind. There was nothing about the hot pink pumps she wore that said she was getting married today. 

Which brought her to this moment outside the door to the courtroom. With Barry watching her and Oliver standing side by side with stiff backs and Oliver’s fingers doing a tap-dance against each other.

Everything had gone well. It had been smooth, and seamless from the moment she woke up until now. This was the chance both of them had to turn to each other, laugh at how ridiculous this was, and call it all off. But they stood quietly side by side until the door was opened for them by a clerk, and they all walked inside. 

Oliver’s friend Tommy was a small relief in the whole ordeal. His jokes that passed in through one ear and out the other eased up the mood, and though she didn’t hear most of his jokes she welcomed being able to laugh. 

“Okay, let’s get this going so we all can go home,” the judge said when everyone had put their name on record, obviously unimpressed with being kept after office for some rich kid. 

“Yeah?” Oliver raised his eyebrows in question to her, and she nodded quickly. She regretted not having a bouquet. It would’ve given her her clammy hands something other to do. She had no idea what to do with them. Luckily Oliver saw her discomfort, and took both of her hands between his

“By the way, I’m jewish,” she said, remembering that Oliver didn’t know her religion. It was something so basic that it had slipped her mind before.

“We’ll get a rabbi for the second wedding with everyone then,” he said. Second wedding? She was about to ask, but then Oliver spoke up. “Let’s go,” he said to the judge. 

“Oliver Jonas Queen, do you take Felicity Meghan Smoak to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health until death do you part?” 

“I do.” She let out a shaky breath, and his hands squeezed hers tighter. 

“Felicity Megan Smoak, do you take Oliver Jonas Queen to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health until death do you part?”

“I… I do,” she pressed out. 

“By the power vested in me I pronounce you husband and wife.” The judge’s voice was grumpy and annoyed, and in her peripheral vision she could see the judge pulling up some papers. The final document they would sign to prove that they were husband and wife. 

His eyes were heavy on hers, and no one in the room said a word. For a second she thought he would say something as his lips opened, but he shut them quickly. Instead one of his hands let go of her hands and brought it up to cup her cheek. 

Burst of electricity shot through her veins at the contact, her body on high alert as she waited to see what he was going to do. Slowly his face descended towards hers, seeing his closed eyes made her own fall shut on their own volition. 

His lips barely touched hers, but for the few seconds she could feel them against her own a strange calm settled in her body. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. There was something in the stranger that soothed the nerves that had fizzed in her body ever since her father had stepped out of the shadows. 

When the kiss ended as abruptly as it started, the silence of the room vibrated in her ears. His eyes opened and settled on hers. The pupils were blown, but as they once again got used to the florescent lights in the courtroom they started to shrink back. She could see a quick flash of imagination of his naked body on top of hers mirror in his, and his smirk was immediate. 

Her face blushed hot immediately, embarrassed that she got caught in her fantasy. Because that was what had happened, right? She turned her face away from him and to Barry whose smile met her as soon as her eyes landed on him. She returned the smile with a tight one of her own, once again wishing she had flowers to give her hands something to do. 

“So, who is this guy?” Barry asked her as she kicked the ground with her restless feet. They stood on the parking lot west of the building waiting for Oliver and Tommy to come out. They’d stopped to talk for a moment, and Iris had run off to the bathroom. She was sure Barry wouldn’t have asked if Iris was there, and Felicity was happy for the moment alone with him.

“I really wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t.” She tried to show her sincerity as she locked eyes with his, holding them for a few seconds. “What I can say is that Oliver, me… his baby sister, this is for our safety.”

“Are you involved in something illegal Felicity?” He said it as a joke, as if it was the last thing he could think Felicity would be involved in. Like most people in her life he didn’t know what she did during her time at MIT. Illegal was probably also close to what she was doing now. She was after all marrying into the Bratva. Even if she technically was somehow a part of it before due to parentage, this was more of an active stance. She didn’t know what the Bratva did, but she guessed it was mostly illegal things. 

“So…” she looked over to where Iris was walking towards them with Tommy and Oliver walking beside her. “Iris?” She nudged her shoulder against his arm. Even when she worse heels he was towering above her.

“No we’re not… No.” The blush that rose on his cheeks never failed to make Felicity smile. People in love was something she loved to witness. She would watch couples at dinner together, at strangers’ wedding photos, at couples walking in the streets. It never failed to make her smile. Barry being her friend made that feeling fizzle in her gut and her cheeks ache. 

“You will.” She winked at him, sound effect and all. 

The Queen mansion was the next stop of the day. During the day it had been decided that she would be staying over at the Queen mansion for their wedding night. Moira, along with her lawyer, had made the argument that both families needed to be present in the house so that no one would be able to contest that the marriage was consummated and legal. This way they would know that Oliver and Felicity had, at the very least, shared a bed together. 

Felicity was very thankful that while they were very adamant that they had sex no one would be in the room with them. It had crossed her mind. At this point she was grateful for anything that kept her alive, and didn’t involve everyone knowing every single detail of her personal life. It was strange how fast she had adjusted her expectations and boundaries. She was sure that once this day was over there would be a whole slew of emotions for her to deal with that she had yet to have time to process in the past 24 hours. 

In the years Felicity had lived in Starling City she’d seen the gothic Queen mansion on several occasions both on TV and in the paper. Most often there would be either Moira or Robert standing at the front of the mansion, or by the gates, holding a press conference of some sort. Up close it seemed more grand, and colder, than a picture could ever convey. Used to tight living spaces cluttered with everyday life the immaculate inside felt uninhabitable. Even the dining table was more a display of riches than an invitation for a family meal.

She shared a look with Iris and Barry as they entered the dining room, both of them meeting hers with a look of equal awestruck fear. The grandeur of it was imposing. None of them had ever set foot inside a place like this before. 

“Felicity,” Oliver said as he placed a hand on her back, breaking her out of her spell. “We’ll be sitting over here.” He guided her to two seats at the middle of the table.

“Oh, right!” she blubbered, her body slow to catch up with her feet as she took a step forward.

“Your dad will sit next to you,” he pointed to the seat on the other side of her. She nodded, not quite sure what to think or say next. She hadn’t seen him since yesterday. 

Just as they took their seats, Oliver pulling out the chair for her like men would do in movies, they were joined by the rest of Oliver’s family and her dad. Thea was different from what Felicity had expected. Unlike her older brother the spotlight had been kept off of her, but that didn’t mean that the rumors of what the privileged lifestyle had made her inte weren’t spread. While Oliver favored his mother in color, Thea’s darker tones wasn’t mirrored in either of her parents. Nevertheless, there was something sweet in the piercing stare she directed at the chandelier above the dining table. Though not disarming as her brother she was intriguing. Soft features, unblemished pale skin, and in all sense of the word: tiny. 

“Thea.” Oliver jumped up, having only reached half way down to the chair before they entered. He swept the girl up in a hug, and Thea’s face disappeared in his jacket as her own arms clutched herself to her brother. The hug lasted for little longer for a second, but when it ended the coldness in Thea’s face had melted into a pout. “This is Felicity… Felicity, this is my sister.” Unrestrained pride beamed on his face as he presented his younger sister. 

“Hi.” Felicity stood up, reaching forward to take Thea’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you.” At least, Felicity thought, the smile was genuine. That was all she hoped for at this point: not to be hated. It seemed like a simple thing to hope for. 

Without more talk they all sat down around the table. Her back was stiff next to her father, and his movements were constrained and uncomfortable. The dinner was stilted. Barry and Iris both tried to lighten to mood some by attempting a few jokes, but even though most laughed the tension was thick. Felicity guessed that everyone but Barry and Iris were in the know of the family politics that lay underneath the surface. The only one who seemed somewhat unaffected by the mood in the room was Tommy Merlyn. Over the course of the dinner he would make eye contact with either Felicity or Oliver and his face would break out in a knowing grin. An “I know you’re getting some tonight” grin that made both of them squirm in their seats. 

Everyone knows, Felicity screamed in her head, trying not to let the panic bubble up in her throat. 

“So Felicity, Oliver was your supervisor?” Thea half stated, half asked, before biting down on the roasted potato she had pierced with her fork. 

“Uh yeah.” Her eyes shifted between Oliver, Thea, around the table, and then between Oliver and Thea again. “I’m in IT security and he… supervised me. Not anymore though. Nope.” She was aware she was about to start rambling, and clamped her lips shut. 

“Is he has much a pain in the ass at work as he is at home?” Thea continued, an eyebrow quirked in challenge at her brother. 

“Thea…” Oliver’s voice dropped, and eyes narrowed. 

“I don’t think it’s possible for Oliver not to be a pain in the ass,” Tommy said, joining in on the teasing with a conspiratorial smile shared with Thea. 

“Don’t answer them,” Oliver said, glaring at his friend and sister. 

“Anal is a good thing according to him.” From the look on the faces of Thea, Tommy, Barry, and Iris, she realized her mistake. “He thinks being anal is a compliment, I mean, I don’t know what he thinks about anal, I mean I haven’t asked, I mean… I’m going to stop now.” She clenched her fist and looked over to Oliver, pleading with her eyes for him to save her. But he was laughing. Laughing at her.

“A conversation for the wedding night?” Tommy suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Ew, you are disgusting Merlyn.” Thea smacked his shoulder. “This is not an appropriate dinner conversation,” she continued in a mocking posh voice that made Moira chew whatever was in her mouth slower. 

“Exactly,” Oliver responded. “I apologize on the behalf of my juvenile friend and my sister, they apparently can’t behave,” he said to Barry and Iris who didn’t seem phased by it at all.

“It’s nothing honestly, my dad’s a cop so we’ve been desensitized to most of it,” Iris assured him. 

Though Noah, Robert, and Moira remained in stoic uncomfortable silence for the rest of the dinner, the rest of them were able to continue joking amongst them. Even Felicity herself joined in from time to time. As the evening progressed she found that the nervous lump in her throat made her less eager to speak.

When the dinner was over they lingered in the living room that was adjacent to the dining room. Barry and Iris excused themselves to catch the train back to Central City. The day had been long for them, and they wouldn’t be back until after midnight as it was. Sensing the shift in mood in the room once Felicity’s friends had left Tommy said his goodbyes as well, awkwardly slipping out the door. 

“I’ll show you our room,” Oliver said after he’d made eye contact with his mother. 

They headed up one of the two staircases that was on either side of the hallway leading up to a landing connecting the two. After that they took a left to a hallway with a few doors on either side of them. The door he opened was the second door to the left. 

The room was lit only by the two lamps standing on the nightstands next to the bed. It left a soft and warm hue to the room that scaled back on the gothic regalness and made it feel more like a home. She could imagine someone in this room. It wasn’t too strange to imagine someone sitting on the bed reading a book. Though, she couldn’t say she’d be able to fully imagine Oliver Queen quite as domestic as that. 

“I’m starting to regret I didn’t drink more wine,” Felicity said as he closed the door behind them. “Not that you’re unattractive, you definitely are not unattractive… I wasn’t meant to say that out loud.”

“I feel the same way,” he stopped her, his hands clasping her wrist and silencing her. “I don’t have alcohol, but I do have music.” He walked towards a stereo docking station, flipping an on-switch. The room was filled with soft and muted jazz music that felt like a blanket over her skin and nerves.

“I like this,” she said. 

“I can put on something else if you want to, I’ve got a big iTunes library.” He plugged his phone in and opened up iTunes on his phone.

“This is good,” she said. She eyed the bed, not quite sure how to approach what was coming next. 

“If you want we can talk for a while, we don’t have to rush this.” Neither of them moved from their spots. She was still close to the door, he was standing further into the room. The distance between them felt huge and like nothing all at once. 

“It’s been a long day…” She closed her eyes and willed the courage into her body. “We should just get this over with.” 

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” he asked, walking towards her. She said yes, holding her breath as his chest met her chin, forcing her to tilt her head up to face him. “If you want to stop, or take a break, just say stop… okay?” He cradled her face in his palm, his thumb pulling on her bottom lip just slightly.

“Okay,” she breathed.

His lips were soft and strong at the same time, with something possessive about the way he claimed her mouth. It was like zero to a hundred in a matter of a few seconds, growing from lips pressed against each other to hungry mouths opening to devour the other. Awkwardness melted away when one arm wrapped around her body, and the other lifted her leg up his hip and carrying her off the ground. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his hip, taking advantage of the new height difference to claim his mouth in return.

Electricity burst through her body, his strong body was around her everywhere, his hands brandishing the skin they touched. She’d never imagined having sex with him, never considered him beyond that he was attractive, but the scent she discovered in the crook of his neck, and the sound of his labored breathing sent all rational thought out of the window. 

The skirt of her dress had risen up to her hips as he carried her over to the bed. The rough fabric of his grey dress pants against the naked skin of her inner thigh, and the bulge pressed against her, ought to have made her embarrassed. But, it didn’t. Instead as he placed her on the bed, crawling on top of her, she wanted more of it.

Each nerve ending was anticipating his next move, but he hovered inches above her, looking down at her face as she fought to catch her breath. Her lips felt raw and swollen from the stubble on his cheeks. She knew she would most likely have a beard burn in the morning, but now she didn’t care. 

Feeling the tension crackle in the room she reached up to touch his face, pulling him down towards her as she reached up to face him halfway. His tongue brushed against hers, and she pulled at the hair at the back of his head as his hand squeezed her breast through her bra. 

Both felt the frustration of their clothes impeding further exploration of the other’s body, and without a single word needing to be said they both pulled their clothes off. Felicity shimmied the best she could out of her dress, watching the layers of his clothing disappear one by one. First his jacket, then the dress shirt with the white vest underneath it. The white vest was tight enough, and sheer enough, for her to get a preview of what was underneath it. The perfect abs she must have always known were hiding underneath called out to her. Never before had Felicity had the urge to lick a man, but those were abs that called out to be licked. 

In the morning she would be embarrassed by these thoughts, but in that moment she let herself throw herself into the moment, knowing that if she didn’t there would be no way through it. She removed her bra under his watchful gaze, his eyes taking in her breasts with something that looked like hunger.

He sank his hips down to hers, resting between her legs, when all he had left on was his boxers. He sucked on her nipples, it almost hurt but it was a good kind of hurt that had her arching her back into his mouth. Through the thin layer of underwear she could feel him. The heat and hardness pressing against her. She rocked her hips against his, his cock brushing against her clit sending small bursts of electricity through her body. 

He stilled her hips with his hands, smiling down at her as he shook his head. He hooked his fingers in her underwear, pulling them past her hips and down her leg. He gently touched her lips through the damp curls, watching her as he found her clit and teasingly circled it with his index finger.

“No,” she said. Out of everything this she couldn’t do. She couldn’t be watched by him as he touched her like that. It was too intimate, too vulnerable. “I want you.” Unable to say the words, be as vulgar as she needed to make herself clear, but with a tug on his boxers he understood what she meant. He followed her lead with no questions asked. “Condom?”

“Yeah, wait a sec…” He stood up from the bed, pulling his boxers down as he went to the nightstand on the right side of the bed and pulled out a drawer and took out a condom. 

As he put on the condom the awkwardness returned to the room, both dampened and heightened by both of their nakedness. But it didn’t take long before he settled between her legs again, eyes connecting with hers to make sure they were still on the same page. 

He pressed against her. Felicity wasn’t a virgin, so she hadn’t expected the discomfort she felt when he pushed inside of her. 

“Can you just… wait a second.” She said, needing a second to adjust to him. It had been a long time since her ex, and her body was unused to this. He waited for her, watching her face for any indication on whether to continue or to stop completely. It only took a few long seconds for her not feel too uncomfortable. She nodded her head, giving him the go-ahead to continue. 

He started slow. His head fell to her shoulder in concentration, both of them once again falling back into the desire that drove them before. She wrapped a leg around him, forcing him back against her a bit faster, needing more of the friction. 

They clutched at each other, holding on, kissing, sucking, or licking whatever skin their mouths came in contact with. It was quick, and it left sweat pooling on their skin, and when it was over he rolled off of her, taking her with him and holding her close. 

“I haven’t thanked you yet,” Oliver said then, “for saving my sister’s life.”

That was the moment she realized Oliver didn’t marry her to save his own life, but for his sister’s life. She’d never had a brother or sister, but when she thought of the mischievous 17 year old girl she’d met earlier at dinner, she thought she could understand that. 

“You saved mine, so…” Felicity didn’t really know what to respond. He responded by pulling her tighter against him. “It was an easy decision.”

“Not everyone would agree with you Felicity,” he paused for a second. “You are pretty extraordinary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... phew. Smut isn't easy to write, and I don't know how I did. Wanted to put that disclaimer here... smut is difficult to write!!   
>  take care everyone xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the wedding night life goes on, and as was inevitable... the press finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize so much for the long delay in posting this new chapter. Vacation is so not conductive for creativity. But now I'm back from my probably unreasonably but probably deserved long vacation and working my butt off.

_“In a shocking turn of events the ever unpredictable Oliver Queen, returned to Starling City earlier this year after he mysteriously disappeared 5 years ago, has married 22 year old Felicity Smoak. Felicity Smoak is an employee at Queen’s parents’ company, and got a master at MIT at only 19 years old back in 2009. Star Press reached out to the Queen camp for a comment, and we were told that the happy couple met at work and married after a short period of dating. Star Press wishes the newlyweds all the best, and we’re looking forward to following this story as it progresses.”_

Felicity turned the TV off, grumbling unintelligible words to herself. It had been a week since the wedding, and just as things had gone fast the 24 hours before the wedding, so had the subsequent week. 

In the morning the day after the wedding Moira had set up a meeting with a realtor. They’d spent a day looking at the apartments they’d be able to move into straight away, and picked the one that was closest to work. It seemed like the simplest solution, since neither of them had time to go over what they wanted in an apartment. It wasn’t as if money was an issue, and like they’d be forced to live there forever. 

She had spent the weekend packing her things up. Oliver came by to help with the heavier things, otherwise they hadn’t spent much time together in the days between the wedding and moving in together. She questioned how that would come across to outsiders, but then decided not to worry about it. They would, after all, be living together.

The apartment was a one bedroom apartment with a roof terrace that was about as big as the apartment itself. Oliver seemed to like the light and spacious kitchen with a view of the courtyard that was nestled in between two buildings. It was a cozy open plan apartment, yet big enough to have both a dinner table and a living space without it becoming cramped. Felicity could with ease, were she that type of person, exercise there without risking bumping her foot or knocking something over. The bedroom was quite small, but it fit the bed she brought from her apartment well, and they would have no problems upgrading it to a proper king sized bed if necessary. They even had two bathrooms. One just a simple toilet for guests, and one with a large bath in it. 

All in all, it was an upgrade from the small shoddy apartment she’d moved into when she moved to Starling 3 years ago. Back then there had been a list of apartments for her to chose from, just the ones she could rent that was in her budget. Over the years she had saved up enough money to pay off most of her student loans, and to put a down payment on a somewhat decent apartment, yet she hadn’t found the time in her schedule to make that happen. So she was happy to be leaving the apartment with the stove that regularly blew a fuse, and a landlord that blamed the problem on her instead of fixing it. 

This apartment was in her opinion quite extravagant. Before Oliver she hadn’t exactly lived a frugal life, but she didn’t have a habit of splurging. It quickly became evident that Oliver didn’t have the same approach to money when he disappeared for a few hours and came back home with a couch that she had casually mentioned liking the night before when looking online. It was, obviously, something he’d done in consideration of her, but it still rubbed her the wrong way. 

It was something she worried would be a source of contention in the future. Two people from vastly different lives having to work together on all fronts was a challenge in and of itself. Luckily the week they’d been married they had managed to keep it amicable, if just a little awkward. She didn’t say anything about the couch, just like he didn’t say anything about her massive collection of TV dvd-boxes. When he picked one up and inspected it, he had no clue what TV-show it was, he’d started asking about it. After ten minutes he somehow had gotten roped into watching all 7 seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer with her. 

The week, though packed with things to do, was long for the both of them. The news broadcast that started the Monday morning was just the last thing they needed in this whole mess. While the weekend had been nice where Oliver and Felicity had managed to get to know each other a little while unpacking boxes, they were still mere acquaintances. They learned each other’s birthdays, and she told him that she was an only child. Mostly they discussed food. Oliver confessed to being new to cooking, but enjoying the learning process, and Felicity informed him of her very basic cooking skills. She liked food, and most of her meals were take-out. 

In her three years in the city she had probably tried every take-out place in the city. So when Oliver suggested that they’d order in that Wednesday she was able to give Oliver her top 10 take-out tips. 

“I could probably start a blog about this,” she finished off her 5 minute rambling about the pros and cons of the various take-out places she had never been disappointed with. Oliver had looked at her with a blank expression for half a minute before allowing Felicity to decide what to get. She got them a box of pad thai that she had been craving for ages, and a box of chow mein, some spring rolls, and a box of fried rice. If Oliver thought she ordered too much food he didn’t comment, in fact he ate most of it with a pleased grin on his face, and then remained horizontal on the couch for the rest of the night. There were a few comments about that he was going to burst, but even then he kept a smile on his face. 

It was strange to her how normal everything with him felt. When they got home from work in the evening Oliver would be the one who would start making food while she changed out of her work clothes. Then she would wash up and put things in the dishwasher after dinner while Oliver changed. The moments in between were spent learning random tidbits about the other, like losing their first tooth, or how dangerous Oliver was on a pair of skis. 

Sleeping in the same bed was weird. She would head to bed while Oliver hopped in the shower, and most nights she would pretend to be asleep by the time he crawled back into bed. Talking on the couch, at the dinner table, or over the counters as they set up dinner was different to the closeness of the bed. It was tough to forget how good he’d felt inside of her, his body hers to explore. Sometimes when she was alone she would close her eyes and see the perfectness that was his abs flash behind her eyelids like a forbidden fruit she didn’t want to desire. This marriage was arranged, and she was supposed to be a modern independent woman who shouldn’t find herself this easily in this horrible mess of a situation. It went against everything she believed in. 

But she couldn’t help herself. Her mind wandered as Michael Chen, the very capable temp that was on a summer break from grad school, did whatever she pointed at him to do. Most of the time he knew without needing to be told what he was supposed to do next. She wrote a reminder to herself that she had to write him a good review for when he left after summer, and another reminder to sell QC to him so that he would become her colleague the following year. He was just a year younger than her, and she did feel a bit excluded from the daily workplace activity based on the simple notion that she was a decade or more younger than the vast majority of the employees. The mean age of QC’s employees was around 41 years old, which meant that most of the conversations in the breakroom involved issues she had yet to encounter in life. Like children. 

Whatever she expected to happen once the news broke of their marriage what actually happened was far more weird. Within hours she had over a hundred friend requests on facebook, none of which she intended to accept. School was tough for most people socially. Though she could’ve sworn that her high school and college experience was especially unique -- being a minor in college created its own subset of uniqueness -- she later understood that the emotional experience of it was far from unique. She was a nerd, and her interest of choice wasn’t a particularly social one. The friends she made, and had enough interest in to keep in contact with over social media, were few. Most people were those she would have labs with in college, or her old neighbor in Las Vegas that was a year older than her. They were people who actually shared her interests and made it a somewhat pleasant experience to browse through her feed every once in a while.

Now she was receiving friend requests from people who she supposedly attended high school with and strangers whose geographical location alone made it improbable that they’d ever exchanged words before. Her inbox wasn’t a place she was willing to wade through, and she quickly turned off the ability for non-friends to message her, made her profile private, and after that she deactivated her facebook for the time being. Once she knew how to deal with the mess she would consider activating her facebook again. 

The Queen family were somewhat famous nationally. In Starling they were royalty, but to the rest of the country they were intriguing. As in if they had the desire they could have their own reality show and receive good ratings famous. Their name was enough to recognize, but most would not be able to pick the Queens out of a lineup, or know what exactly they were famous for. Not that Felicity would blame anyone for that, because the fact that Oliver Queen made headlines at all surprised her still. 

She had expected the photogs that waited outside of Queen Consolidated when they arrived in the morning. The address to their new apartment hadn’t been leaked yet, and since those records were thankfully confidential. She had expected them to be intrusive and rude. But somehow expecting it and experiencing it were two different things. 

“How did you trap him Felicity? Did you get yourself pregnant?” one photographer shouter over another one asking if she got her job on her back. Another one caught on the first photographer and asked them when their baby was due. “How long can we expect your first marriage to last?” was the comment the last comment that slipped through before the doors closed behind them in the QC lobby. She no longer needed to wait in line to go through security check, instead she was pushed through unceremoniously towards the executive elevator that she knew didn’t stop on the floor to her own office.   
Her casted hand started to itch. She rubbed the free hand against her skirt, the palm sweat felt disgusting on her skin, and she knew that was why her hand had started to itch. Oliver had brought her a ruler home the day before and the simple tool had been her savior. It reached inside her cast and she could scratch the itching skin as much as she wanted to now. She knew it was in her purse, but it didn’t feel like the right time to break it out and start scratching when there were two security guards standing next to them looking more unimpressed than her mother when Felicity had taken apart her straightener when she was 11 to attempt to build something she could fight in robot wars with. The end result had been so pathetic so she couldn’t even use that as an excuse. Robot building was not her thing. 

“I can’t get to my office from this elevator,” Felicity stage whispered to Oliver. The only sign that he heard her was the slight twitch in his lip. She narrowed her eyes. “I have work to do, Oliver.” Though the launch of the security system had been postponed it needed to launch the next day, and she had to make a few last minute changes in the launch plan to make it go as smoothly as possible. Her new project manager that had taken over after Oliver had requested some clarifications in the information booklet about how the new system would work. 

“My parents needs to talk to both of us,” he said then. “It’s important,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest. It took a lot of willpower for her not to retort with that her work was important too. Remembering that whatever his parents wanted to tell them could have an impact on whether she lived on died did the job of keeping the retort to herself. 

The last time she had been in Moira Queen’s office she had signed the prenup that forged the first bond to her new husband. It hadn’t changed at all in the days since then, and that constant was a bit jarring to her. In all that had changed in the past week the constants were what felt odd. The new things were weird, but expected still. She sat down on the same chair she sat on the other week, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on the knee length pencil skirt she wore. Oliver sat down next to her on the edge of the other chair, meaning he was as close to her as he could be without sharing a seat with her. 

“How’s everything going?” Moira asked, her voice gentle but direct. Moira placed a glass of water in front of Felicity that Felicity immediately took a sip from. 

“It’s going well,” Oliver answered with an overly cheerful smile on his face that Moira zeroed in on immediately. 

“Well…” Moira started, “I had PR get on creating a media script for you to follow so that we follow a consistent narrative when engaging with people outside of this. Your colleagues, especially yours Felicity, will obviously have questions, which you of course have prepared to, but I want to stress the importance of this.”

“I’m aware,” Felicity said. “My life is pretty precious to me, so I’m going to do my very best to stay alive.” Felicity saw something flash in Moira’s eyes, it looked like surprise.   
“Good.” Moira said after a while. “I also wanted to tell you about a benefit we’re having for the children’s hospital two weekends from now. It’s a bit last minute for you Felicity, but I will set up an appointment for you at the shop Thea usually gets her dresses at for tomorrow evening at 6pm. Thea will accompany you to help you find something appropriate to wear.” The dig at Felicity’s lack of experience with events of this type didn’t escape her. 

“It will be the first time the two of you will be in the spotlight together, and if you don’t sell it then this might’ve all been for nothing,” Moira continued. “So practice.” 

“Practice?” Oliver asked, echoing Felicity’s thoughts. 

“Love is tactile, so you will have to be comfortable touching each other, talking to each other, and then with other people as a unit. I don’t want you to oversell it, because that would be as bad as the two of you not touching at all.” She looked at the space between the two of them which wasn’t too big, but they were both making a conscious effort not to let their shoulders brush together. “Practice in whatever way works, but you have to make it work for four to five hours under constant scrutiny of the other guests and the press.”

After another brief pause to let the words sink in. “That event is your first test, and if you can’t make it through that…” the consequences weren’t necessary to spell out to anyone in the room. 

When Felicity and Oliver left Moira’s office a few minutes later there was a dark cloud of silence that hung above them. As Felicity was about to bid her goodbye to head to her own office Oliver pulled her into an empty corner away from prying eyes and ears. In that corner they stood chest to chest, barely an inch between the two of them. 

“How are you?” he asked one hand rubbing her shoulder and down her arm. The question made her lips twitch into a small smile. 

“It’s a lot to take in… I just wish I had someone to talk about my day with, someone who knew everything and wouldn’t risk my, our, life.” 

“If you need someone to talk to your day with you can talk to me,” he said, catching her eyes before they dropped to his chest. “I’ll be listening.” She nodded just slightly, keeping the smile on her face. 

“You too, you can talk to me too you know… about your day.” When he returned her statement with a smile she felt something strange in her gut. It felt like nerves tingling but different. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in ages, a strange excitement at his smile and that she was the cause of it. 

With each day she became more and more sure that she was lucky Oliver was the one she had to marry to save her life. In him she could find a friend, someone genuinely interested in her wellbeing and happiness. That was all she could ask for. But she had only known him for so long, and she didn’t want to set her expectations too high. Disappointment was, from Felicity’s experience, assured. She just hoped that he wouldn’t let her down completely, not when she needed him as much as she did. Whether she wanted to or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the most action packed chapter, but next chapter we have dress shopping with Thea and a ball to attend! At this point anything can happen ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the very long delay in this chapter. There was so much I wanted to fit into this chapter, and then I got stuck and had to rewrite scene after scene. Eventually I just sat down and wrote this all in two nights and it's not re-read or edited in any capacity because I just wanted it posted and out there. 
> 
> There are some new plot-elements introduced in this chapter which I'm super excited about sharing with you guys! Unfortunately the chapters will continue to not follow a consistent schedule due to being in my last year of my degree program plus my work schedule being anything but consistent. I still hope you will want to continue this story and find out what happens next.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Spandex were horrible, Felicity thought as she wrestled herself into the spandex dress Thea had hinted at her to wear under her dress. Felicity had trusted her judgment implicitly since Felicity hadn’t even attended any middle school dances or high school proms. The only formal event she had ever attended was the dinner held for master graduates years before, and even then she had bought her dress on the clearance rack. The store Thea took her to didn’t have a clearance rack.

Once Thea and the personal shopper had decided what styles would be the most flattering for Felicity’s figure they started hauling off dresses to the large dressing room. Nothing strapless was the first thing they agreed on. Felicity was to look stunning and feminine, but not sexy. The point was to show her youth while not making her look like a child. 

“You’re 22, not 15 or 52,” the personal shopper explained. She was in her mid forties herself and went by Mrs Randall, and carried herself as if the whole world was a red carpet and she didn’t want anyone to photograph her at an inopportune moment. “You should have curves, show off that bosom and behind without being vulgar. You are a married woman, after all.” The way Thea smiled at this clued Felicity in on that while Mrs Randall looked prude she was unabashed when it came to the female body and its powers over the male sex. 

“No, no, no.” Mrs Randall shook her head at a dress with a boatline neck and a wide a-line skirt. “You look lovely dear, but you want your husband to want to tear you out of the dress when you get home.” Thea choked on the coffee she had been drinking, a bit of it dribbling down her chin as she tried to stop herself from laughing. Felicity shot the girl a look trying to get her to shut up, but Thea was far too gone already. “That new sister you have is a piece of work,” Mrs Randall commented with a glint in her eye. 

“As much as I don’t want to think about my brother tearing your clothes off Fee, she’s right. That dress is pretty tame.” It didn’t escape Felicity that she had been given a new nickname. It was the same nickname that her neighbor and friend had for Felicity as a child. The more she thought about it the warmer she felt, like a heater was switched on inside of her abdomen. 

“You should be sexy for him, but not for the world,” Mrs Randall mused, glancing out over the shop. Something seemed to catch her eye. “Change out of that, I think I know just the one.”

The dress was taupe, a muted soft color that made her look more tan, and was sexy but understated because of the shade. It had a sweatheart neckline with lace rhinestone studded straps that almost looked like sleeves that carried on down her back to her waistline. The waistline had a belt in the same color sewn into the dress, creating the illusion that she had an hourglass waistline as the skirt itself fell heavily down to the floor.

“Felicity yes.” Thea gasped and rose from the plush chair she had sunk into when they came into the shop. 

“You don’t think it’s a little… boring?” She dragged her palm against her hip, the fabric of the dress was soft underneath her palm. Ever since the incident in college and her goth days ended she had always worn colorful clothes. Everyday she had either a blouse, a skirt, or a dress in a vibrant color. This was muted. Beautiful, but not colorful. 

“No, with your hair up, some jewelry and makeup you will look amazing, really.” Thea looked to Mrs Randall for backup.

“Mhm,” Mrs Randall hummed, giving Felicity an up and down. “Respectable and mature, but still a little teasing going on by the bust.” She pointed towards the lace that cut under the bust towards the belt. She made a gesture for Felicity to turn around, and she complied dutifully. “It also compliments that behind of yours, that’s one part of your body we do not want to hide.”

She ended up deciding on that dress, trusting their judgement. It wasn’t something she would have chosen for herself, but it was no doubt a beautiful dress. It was at dinner afterwards where Thea gave her advice on wearing spandex underneath the dress. There was no need to accidentally add fire to the rumors that Felicity had trapped Oliver by getting pregnant. One picture taken when her stomach didn’t look perfectly flat would be all the proof they’d need. 

The two weeks leading up to tonight had been weird between Oliver and her. It had started the evening after she had been out with Thea when they were watching TV after dinner. Instead of sitting on their usual ends of the couch Oliver had sat down right next to her. There wasn’t even a breath of space between them.

“What are you doing?” She eyed his thigh that was pressed against her, trying to wiggle further into the arm of the couch to get some space between him. He may have been her husband, but he was still practically a stranger to her. 

“Touching you.” He said it as if it was obvious, nothing strange at all, a small smile playing on his face as he reached for her hand. He took her hand and placed it against his thigh, holding it like it was something he always did. “Practicing.” 

“This is about what your mom said?” Felicity said wearily, but still relaxed back into the couch, bumping his arm against his. 

“Yes.” He squeezed her hand. “And she’s right, you know?”

“I know, if we’re seen next week and we’re not looking like we’re in love the Bratva will question things, well Bratva and the media, and right now neither of them questioning things sounds fun at all, but Bratva leads to death, media questioning things is just… annoying.” She curled her lip at the thought. The past two days since the news broke they had been followed by paparazzi nearly everywhere. The Queens occasionally managed to manoeuvre in such a way that the press didn’t know to follow them. Either way the outside of QC was filled with paparazzi waiting for their payday. 

“I figured this would be a good place to start.” She nodded in response. 

“We’ll also have to talk about… touching, what’s okay and not.” He was warm next to her, sturdy and soft despite the hard muscles hidden underneath his t-shirt. 

“I figure hand on your back, around your waist when taking photos, and occasional kisses but mostly on the cheek will be most of us touching at the event,” he said. It sounded good to her. “We’ll have to stand close to each other, like we do it without thinking.” 

“This close?” She couldn’t help but smile. She’d leaned into him by now, fitting herself under his arm for a more comfortable and natural position.

“Well…” Unconsciously his thumb rubbed over the back of Felicity’s hand as he pretended to think it over. “I don’t think the other guests would appreciate that.” She giggled. “There are some people, older, that wouldn’t even let their children hold hands with the opposite sex until they had graduated high school that will be attending the event. Being this close would to them be like having sex in front of them on the dance floor.” 

She stiffened immediately. The casualness that had been between them for the past couple of minutes disappeared, and a blush spread past her cheeks to her ears that were exposed thanks to the high ponytail she wore. It had been about a week and a half since they got married, and had sex. Nothing had happened since, despite his penchant for not wearing shirts when he slept. It wasn’t something she’d admit but her attraction to him was growing exponentially every day, and she still wanted to lick his abs. She couldn’t make sense of that desire, but she wanted to nonetheless. 

“I’m not suggesting we have sex, Felicity.” He squeezed her hand again, and the wordless communication soothed her. She had no idea what he meant by that squeeze, all she knew that she felt reassured. 

“I know.” She squeezed his hand back, not really sure what she wanted to communicate with it other than that she truly did know that. She knew he wouldn’t push her into something she didn’t want, and she wouldn’t do that to him either. 

“Maybe we will want to in the future, but I know neither of us is in this by choice so it could be five years before we even talk about that happening, we just need to get comfortable with acting like we are.” He pulled her in closer to his chest, as if he was cuddling her to him. She didn’t resist, hiding her face from him in the fabric of his shirt. 

“Some day we’ll… I mean I don’t think there’ll be an immaculate conception between the two of us, you know.” She was thankful he couldn’t see her face, but was relieved when his chest shook with his chuckles. 

“Felicity?” He waited to continue until he heard her response. “You’re only 22 years old, I don’t think anyone is expecting you to have kids yet to prove our marriage is real.” 

“Do you hear what those people outside QC say to us? They think I’m pregnant already, so I wouldn’t say that exactly,” she grumbled.

“It’s not them we’re concerned about.” His hand moved from her back to hover above her head, wanting to run his hand through her hair to comfort her, but stopping himself before he did. “We’ll keep our ears out for chatter to know where we stand, but the Bratva has modernized a little over the years.”

“Have you always been… in?” she asked then, cranking her neck to look up at him to catch his face. 

“My dad joined when he was young, during the cold war when Bratva and Soviet wanted to find more ways into the States, I guess… or hope that he joined because he thought he’d make a difference, help people or something, but it didn’t turn out like that.” He let out a long breath. “Once you’re in there’s only one way out: dying.” 

“You didn’t have a choice?” It was the most they’d ever talked about his activities outside of work. Occasionally he’d disappear off somewhere in the evenings, take a phone call during dinner, or something like that, but it was less than she’d anticipated. It was almost like he wasn’t actually a part of the mob. 

“I did have a choice, in a way, but when I made it I was between a rock and a hard place, and I made the choice I thought was best at the time.” She felt his shoulders shrug, once again hiding her face in his shirt. It was a strangely intimate conversation and she didn’t want to make it more so by looking at him. 

“How old were you?” She splayed her hand across his chest, feeling his heart beating underneath her palm. 

“When I first made the choice to join I was just 18, but I didn’t join for real until I was 22.” He waited in anticipatory silence for her to get it, and it didn’t take long for her mind to process the information.

“That was when you disappeared.” She stated it, it was after all fact. “I never asked because I figured it was one of those topics that are kind of, you know, sore.” 

“They wanted me to become apart of the Vor world,” he said simply. “It’s an honorary title given to recruits that show promise. Someone in Russia saw potential in me despite the person I was back then, I suppose some money was involved.” 

“It doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing,” she said wearily. She liked good things like puppies, and warm dry socks on rainy days. 

“It’s not.” 

She looked over at the TV where a new episode of a popular TV-show started to play its opening credits. For a brief moment she considered asking more about Bratva, more about being a Vor, but decided not to. There was something in his voice that told her it wasn’t a topic he wanted to talk about. They didn’t, either. Instead they started watching the show on TV, and continued to sit as close as possible to the other. Felicity would’ve thought it’d be awkward to be intimate this way with Oliver, but it was comfortable. He was warm and sturdy and very huggable. It was nice.

After a week of the same bedtime routine where Felicity pretended to be asleep by the time Oliver went to bed that night was different. When he came out of the bathroom she was on her phone reading about a launch of a new product that she wondered about buying for herself. Oliver looked pleasantly surprised at seeing her awake, and crawled into bed beside her. When she turned herself towards him to say something, she didn’t know what exactly, his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her towards him. It killed any words she had lying on her tongue as she was pressed against the side of his body. 

“Good night Felicity,” he said after he’d gotten them both comfortable. 

“G-good night,” she stuttered back. 

Once again she had thought this would’ve been awkward, but it wasn’t. It was comfortable, and it felt safe. With her head resting on his chest she was asleep in seconds. 

That weekend they had a moving-in party.   
Oliver informed her of it on Thursday after getting a very excited call from Tommy who didn’t even pretend to ask. Tommy would provide most of the booze, and Oliver assured her he would take care of the rest. He stuck to his word, and she was woken up on Saturday morning by the vacuum sweeping up the little mess they’ve managed to make in the small amount of time they’d spent in the apartment. Even though she had been told to take it easy that day she eventually joined in. Side by side they cleaned the small apartment listening to the music from his iTunes blaring out of the speakers. Most of the songs were at least 5 years old. She took it upon herself to update his iTunes with the songs he’d missed the past years before he embarrassed himself. 

It was only Oliver’s friends who made it to the party. The combination of the short notice of the party, and the fact that Felicity had yet to make friends in Starling meant she had no one to invite. Not having her own friends there might have bothered some people, but Felicity wasn’t one of those people. That didn’t mean she was not desperate for Oliver’s friends to like her. While content on her own she was raised by a social butterfly, and though she was most like her father not all her mother’s genes turned out to be recessive. Socializing was nice and fun, and she missed it.

Trying to employ Oliver to help her pick out an outfit that would be suitable for the party proved to be a useless endeavor. After he had approved of five outfits in a row, all outfits she had modeled for him, she had given up on him. As confused as any man would be he followed her around the apartment for the next thirty minutes trying to understand why he had failed at his task. She tried to explained to him that he could not say yes to a dress she would wear to a club and t-shirt and jeans, but he still didn’t understand what she meant by it. 

She wanted to look nice for his friends and give a good impression. While she had met Tommy at the wedding two weeks before she hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to him. She hadn’t met the rest of Oliver’s friends though, and considering two of them were his exes it was bound to be awkward. Felicity couldn’t wrap her head around how their friendship worked, especially since his exes Laurel and Sara were siblings, and Laurel was now dating Tommy. It sounded like a recipe for disaster, but apparently it worked. 

In the end Felicity decided on a purple pencil skirt and a white peplum top. It looked professional, put together, but it was an outfit she felt most comfortable in. It was her. For a moments he debated a dress with a short skirt, but not knowing what the night held she didn’t want to risk flashing her underwear at the the end of the night. 

Despite the short guest list the apartment quickly got crowded. Sara brought her girlfriend Nyssa along, and Felicity and Nyssa found themselves sitting opposite one another on the couches on the patio balcony. They shared looks of confusion as inside jokes snuck themselves into conversations making everyone else keel over laughing.

Nyssa, it turned out, was as mysterious as Oliver. Sara had met her during a field study in China for her dissertation the year before, and though Nyssa had some east Asian features she was definitely not Chinese. Where Nyssa was from though was as secretive as the circumstances of them meeting. Nyssa spoke with an almost indiscernible accent, hinting that she did not grow up in an English speaking household. She casually weaved in Russian, Arabic, Mandarin, and Italian words into sentences as if she didn’t notice the words as foreign to other’s ears until Sara softly translated them. 

The fire Felicity could see in Nyssa’s eyes was the same fire that she could see in everyone sitting on that patio that evening. It was that fire that drew them together despite the messy past they all shared. It flickered behind their eyes like candles just waiting to be knocked over. As dangerous as they probably were Felicity felt like a moth circling closer and closer. 

Several drinks deep the conversation flowed from topic to topic with ease. Laughter bubbled over at the silliest things, and Felicity felt the warmth in her chest like a hug.

“You know, I thought I was gonna marry Ollie,” Laurel said, her tongue tripping over the words. “I mean, when we were kids, not now.” She fumbled to place a comforting hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy only grinned in response. 

“I never thought Ollie was ever gonna get married,” Sara interjected from her spot under Nyssa’s arm. 

“Don’t call me Ollie.” 

“I don’t know, he was a bit of a commitment phobe, but I knew Ollie would come around eventually,” Tommy said. 

“Don’t call me Ollie.” Tommy’s eyes glimmered in mischief as he ignored his friend.

“Ollie is cute,” Felicity said, inspecting her husband’s flush face as his eyes settled on the string of lights he’d put up earlier in the day. 

“Ollie is the name of a dog,” he muttered. “And I’m not cute.” He scowled as if the word tasted foul in his mouth. It struck Felicity then in her inebriated state that he was cute. The way his bottom lip stuck out just slightly, rosy cheeks, with that twinkle in his eye she would see from time to time. It was rare, but tonight it was there. Her brain to mouth filter usually wasn’t fully functioning, but with the help of a few glasses of wine it was non-existent. 

“You are cute,” Felicity whispered in his ear. She figured they all knew what she said, but she still wanted it to be for his ears only. As he turned his face towards her she inspected him closely. The stubbled cheeks and jaw that had brushed the top of her head as she slept on his chest the past nights. The lips that had kissed hers two weeks ago. Eyes stormy, clouded, but determined and clear. The fire that set in his jaw and eyes that made him seem like a man and a boy all in one. And he was her husband. 

“And you’re my wife,” he said, eyes twinkling, humor lacing his voice.

“I said that out loud?” He nodded. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I like that.” He tucked a piece of stray hair that had fallen across her face in her face behind her ear, and continued when he saw the confusion on her face. “You saying what you’re thinking.”

“It’s not on purpose, it’s actually… quite embarrassing.” She hid her face in his shirt, feeling the sting in her eyes as her makeup smudged. 

“Hey.” He lifted her face up with a finger under her chin, tilting it to him. Whatever he was about to say died on his lips when her eyes met his. Without even thinking about it, questioning it, he softly pressed his lips against hers. 

The gentle pressure of his lips on hers wasn’t enough. Her lips parted, pulling on his fleshy bottom lip, coaxing him to dive head first into each other. It was a kiss without end, without a purpose beyond itself. There was no tongue yet it felt like the most sensual kiss she’d ever experienced in her life. The two of them were a particle floating through space as everything fell away around them. Occasionally small sounds would penetrate the bubble of their world, but it was too easy to forget that anything beyond this moment existed. 

“Ahem….” Tommy’s loud fake cough next to Oliver pulled them out of their trance. “I know you’re newlyweds and all, but you also have to breathe.” He paused at the two looks of utter confusion he received in return. “You’ve been sucking face for the past half hour, and Laurel is starting to sober up, so I need to get her home before the headache sets in cause then I’m never going to get some.”

“You are so crass, Tommy.” Despite her tone Laurel was grinning widely at her boyfriend. “But you’ll only get some if you buy me a Big Belly burger on our way back.” 

“If you fart during sex I will…. I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll probably tell Felicity.” He winked at Felicity, who watched the exchange with the same kind of grogginess of someone who’d just woken up from an unintentional nap. 

“Wow Tommy, that’s juvenile even for you.”

“I’m boyfriend of the year, am I not?” He wrapped his arms around a squealing Laurel, wrestling her playfully so that he could place a kiss on the top of her head. Sara and Nyssa followed their Tommy and Laurel out, citing the need for sleep. It left Oliver and Felicity alone again, but this time with lips swollen from kissing.   
For a moment they stood in the hallway looking at each other after saying their goodbyes to their friends. Then his hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her towards him. The other hand wrapped around her waist holding her as tight as he could so that she was flush against his body. 

She could feel him against her belly, his desire teased and waiting for her. When his hands cradled her head as he kissed her she nearly melted in his arms. As he backed them into their bedroom with certain steps she knew what he was going to do.

“You are my wife,” he whispered against her lips. “I am your husband.” He was going to claim her, and in that moment she wanted nothing less than that. 

It was that night that echoed in her mind as she squeezed herself into the spanx dress Thea had picked out for her. It looked almost like lingerie, and nothing like the beige intimidating shorts her mother would buy. Felicity had never owned _sexy_ lingerie before. There had been underwear she had felt sexy in, but nothing that made her feel this way. Like she was dressed to be worshipped, like a seductress. 

Unlike their wedding night she had allowed his slow exploration of her body, falling apart grasping at the sheets. She had never understood women who spoke about being eaten out like it was the closest thing to experience pure and unadulterated bliss. Then along came Oliver. Then along came that night. He made her feel everything, and all of it good. 

Having sex with him had definitely not been a part of the plan, and when she woke up in the morning with a dull headache between her eyebrows she wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. Sex with Oliver, without the awkwardness of their wedding night, was good. It was great, even. Fantastic. A part of her felt overjoyed that she could have good sex with the man she would spend a good portion of her life with. The other part of her was absolutely terrified and horrified by it. 

Which was wherein the problem lay; it was definitely too soon. Had they only been dating Felicity didn’t think it would have been a huge deal, but in this mess of a situation it was. It was big. If they didn’t work out it wasn’t just heartbreak waiting for them, it could have devastating consequences for a lot of people. 

Despite needing to talk about it they didn’t. Coming to a silent agreement of not silence seemed like the best at the time. It didn’t stop Felicity from remembering the salty taste of the skin. It didn’t stop Felicity from remembering it all despite her best efforts not to.

So the week had been like the one before. They _practised_ at touching each other, being close, but there was no real talking. They discussed what to eat, what happened at work. Sometimes he’d help her scratch underneath her cast with the help of a ruler. She only had one week left with it on, and she couldn’t wait to get it off.

“You ready?” Oliver peeked out from behind the door. 

“Yeah, just have this necklace…” She finally got it to clasp behind her neck. “There, I’m ready.” He stepped out from behind the door.

“You look… amazing Felicity.” He let out a long breath as his eyes trailed the length of the dress. 

“It’s different from what I usually wear.” She pulled at the skirt, stepping towards him. “I look like someone’s wife now, apparently.” She popped her lips trying to hide that she was rolling her eyes. “You don’t think it’s… boring?” He shook his head, only able to manage a dumbfounded smile. “Mrs Randall, the woman at the dress shop, she said it made my butt look good.”

“Mrs Randall knows what she’s talking about.” The blush that crept across Oliver’s cheek even when he fixed his eyes on hers was adorable. The kind of adorable she knew he didn’t appreciate if she pointed out, if she’d learnt anything the past weekend. 

If they’d been more comfortable with each other she would have kissed him there, but they weren’t. A few weeks of marriage and he still felt like a stranger to her. It still took her by surprise some mornings that she woke up next to the man who used to be her boss not long ago. 

Instead they went out to the car that was waiting for them outside the building. They sat next to each other at dinner and smiled at each other, talked with benefactors, and they danced close to each other when the ballroom opened up. It felt as natural as it felt rehearsed. She had to remind herself at times to not twitch her hand away from his when his hand rested on hers in the middle of the conversation. Other times it struck her how normal it felt to have him kiss her cheek as he left her to talk with Thea at the bar. 

It was when his hand held her elbow and pulled her back towards the dance floor once again that a man blocked their path. He was taller than Oliver, but older and far more slender with high cheekbones, sunken cheeks and brown eyes that were colder than an Arctic winter. 

“Mr and Mrs Queen,” the man said with a forced smile pulling on his thin lips. “It’s my pleasure to congratulate you on your marriage.” Though Felicity knew nothing about the Bratva she still recognized his melodic accent as Russian. 

“Thank you Mr Alexeev,” Oliver said, and she noticed then just how tense his body was next to hers. “I assume Lebedev is the one who sent you?”

“You assume correctly Mr Queen.” Alexeev smirked at Oliver. “He wanted me to bear witness to the marriage, to see the two of you with my own eyes and give you our well wishes.” He paused for a few beats, looking over at Felicity. “He also wanted Kuttler’s daughter to be aware of us.” He took Felicity’s hand in his and kissed the top of it with a strange gentleness considering the alarm bells she could feel going off inside Oliver’s head. “He owes us many favors, and if he cannot pay then we have to seek other avenues,” he looked over at Oliver, “because such is the Bratva.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to shortly summarize why it's taken me three months to write this very short chapter? Well. In October I thought "hey, 2016 hasn't been to bad for me, how great!". Then I stopped taking my medication, my grandmother died and I had to travel to another country for her funeral, I got a new job (which was a terrible idea), and f'd up my life. So yeah. Not in a great place at the moment. If you follow me on social media you might've caught the live tweeting of my life going up in flames, lol.
> 
> Anyway. Here's a short chapter. Sorry for the brevity of it, but if I didn't post this now I don't know when this would've gone up!

In the back of the car after the gala they sat with a distance between them that Felicity had imposed. Curling against the door Oliver had only had to take one look at her to understand he should keep away. Instead he had turned to the driver.

“Dig, take a detour,” was all he said. The man in the front seat waved his hand as a reply, and wordlessly drove a direction that took them further from their apartment. Felicity wanted to protest for a moment, demand that she wanted back to their place where she could get some distance. That was until it sank in that in that tiny apartment there was no such thing as space. There was an illusion of distance between them, where she was in one room and he in the other, but he was always there. Always around. 

After Alexeev had left they had been interrupted by Sara who had hooked her arm under Felicity’s and dragged her off to the bar. Sara was all smiles and her joked about the first time she tried to order a drink in a bar when she was 20 and no one spoke a lick of English or French, the only two languages she knew at the time. Despite that Felicity found it hard to make her lips move into a smile, no matter how hard she tried.

“It gets easier,” Sara said eventually when the bar was almost empty of people besides them. Before Felicity had the chance to do anything but react with a frown Sara continued. “I’ve known the Queens for over a decade now, and I’ve had to keep a lot of secrets because of who my father is… It gets easier.” Sara put her hand over Felicity’s where she rested it on the cool surface of the bar. 

“Don’t you ever… question it?” Sara took their hands so that Felicity’s body twisted in the chair and faced her, holding Felicity’s hand between her own in between them.

“In the beginning yes… but Oliver is the best person for that role because of who he is, because he is a good person, and he isn’t in it for the power.” 

“What about you, do you ever question your role in it?” For a moment Sara didn’t seem to register the question, looking at Felicity as if she was a question to be answered herself. 

She shrugged. “Not really.” Sara looked over her shoulder towards where her sister and dad were talking. “Nothing is as black and white as we want it to be.”

The conversation was unsatisfactory for Felicity, neither settling her fears about Alexeev or nerves about her new life. Sara seemed to have long since given up questioning the life she’d chosen, and if someone as intelligent as Sara and Laurel were standing by without question, then surely Felicity could as well. These weren’t just any women Oliver surrounded himself with, these were two highly educated and experienced women. The time she’d spent with Thea she knew that despite her young age she was a force to be reckoned with. No one in his life were helpless or involuntary participants, except her. Each one had made a choice and stuck with it. 

The silence in the car grew the distance between them, creating a canyon of nothing, impossible to reach across. Though she kept looking out of the window she could see the mirror image of Oliver as he kept looking over at her. As the buildings turned from apartments to houses, and the distances between them grew further and further, he kept looking over at her more and more often. When Diggle turned into a parking lot by a church she turned to him.

“You know I’m jewish, right?” She twisted her hands, and made no move to get out of the car as he opened his door.

He smiled. “I know.” He walked around the car to open the door for her. “I want to show you something.” Wordlessly she followed behind him. It was late and the church yard was dark except for the few lamps that lit up the small paths between the headstones. The church was old, but still standing proudly. She hadn’t spent much time in churches, except for a few weddings or baptisms, but it was a familiar sight nonetheless. Churches in Vegas were either chapels or grotesque exhibitions of capitalism. These were the modest churches she’d seen in movies, ones that decked the lands where nothing shielded the horizon but distance. 

The muted lights from the gothic-inspired lamps above made it difficult for Felicity to decipher the names and dates ingraven into the headstones. Really, she couldn’t see much at all, barely the path underneath her dress. The bottom of it was sure to have been muddied by now, even if they hadn’t walked far. Before she could ask him to clarify exactly what he wanted to show her, he stepped off the path and walked across the grass. 

She lifted her dress and glanced wearily at the high heels she wore. They were difficult enough to walk with on the graveled path, and she was sure to sink in the grass. The thin heels had been designed for galas like the one she had just attended. Not for a church yard. Without mulling it over long enough for Oliver to notice she wasn’t right behind him anymore, she took the shoes off. One hand holding the shoes and the other holding the dress up she followed Oliver across the damp grass.

When she caught up with him he was standing by a headstone. In the dark she couldn’t see his expression, all she could tell was that he was looking right at her.  
“I go here when I need to think,” he said, gesturing towards the large headstone with both of his hands. When she squinted she could just barely make out the name Jonas and Dearden on the stone. “It’s my grandfather’s grave.”

“Oh…” she took one step towards him. “Were you close?”

He laughed, it came from deep in his belly and was surprisingly heartfelt considering the location. “God no. He was an awful man.” He sobered up a little before crouching down to touch the headstone. “My mom was born from his fourth marriage, and he well above 60 then. He was Pakhan, and he was ruthless even with his children.” 

“If he was so awful why…”

“He’s who I never want to become,” he finished for her. He stood up to face her, taking the hand not holding her shoes in his own. “I had two uncles who died before my mother was born, so I’m the one grandson of the Pakhan, and that means something to Bratva. My father is like a… bookkeeper for a few organizations here in the US, but he’s got very little power over anything but the men he has in Starling.” 

“They want you to follow in your grandfather’s steps?” Felicity asked and glanced down on the grave. 

“Some do, because they want power to be passed down from generation to generation within one family. Others are less traditional and want power where it is strategically best for them.” She could see Diggle turning off the headlights in the parking lot where he was waiting for them. “That’s why I went away. The short story of it, anyway. They thought I was too soft, and too reckless to ever lead an organization like the Bratva. It was my mother’s choice to send me away, hoping that it would make me grow up.” She remembered the many scars she’d seen on his body, the rough feel of them under her fingertips when they had sex. The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine, and he must’ve thought she was cold because he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulder. 

“Your scars.” He nodded and looked at his feet. “It must’ve been… awful.”

“Taking this position, being who I am, is not a choice I’ve made Felicity,” he said, “just like you never made this choice. I’m not going into this blindly, though, this is something I’ve known since birth and I’ve had years to accommodate to. When I saved you that day it was the first test to who I want to be in this role. It was the first chance I got at showing that I am not my grandfather, and no matter the hardships that decision may bring, even if this marriage wasn’t what I had planned, I will never regret that day. Ever. And that’s how I know I’m not him.”

“You know I never ask what my father actually did?” She squeezed his hand and took one step closer to him. They were now standing in each other’s space so close that she had to look up to see his face. “He left when I was seven, I still remember him tucking me in that night like nothing was wrong, and then him not being there the next morning. For years I thought he’d left me, that I’d done something wrong… Subconsciously I think I went to MIT and I do what I do because it was our common interest. He showed up that night and all he had for me was to marry me off to a stranger without ever explaining why I had to do that. Because he was my father I just thought that… he’d explain it, that it would make sense once I knew. But I haven’t seen him since the wedding, and I still don’t know why I’m even in this situation because I was waiting for _him_ to explain it.”

She drew a shaky breath. “I don’t think he’s ever going to explain it, is he?”

“He built a program for an organization under Alexeev’s command. It tracks and logs all activity within Bratva for the head office back in Russia. Russia is pleased with it, but there are many organizations like the one I belong in that have powerful members that do not want to be on record as a Bratva member. Even Russia understands that if this program were to end up in the wrong hands that could be the end of Bratva as we know it. Kuttler says he’s good enough to keep it hidden, though. Says there’s only one person in the world who could ever come close.”

“Me.” It wasn’t bragging. Objectively she knew she was a genius when it came to computers, but she also knew her father’s codes like the back of her hand. She’d studied it for years after he left like some might’ve torn apart a photo album from use. 

“Some believe you have the ability to bring down the entire Bratva, and they’re the ones who want you dead. You marrying someone in Bratva and becoming a part of this world has settled most of those people’s worries, the rest believe that I will keep you in line.” He shook his head as he said the last part which spared Felicity the need to react to it. “If my family, our organization, would have let you go and let you live we would have been seen as weak, unable to rule… and our very own organization would have turned on us.”

“That’s why we got married.” Knowing the facts of why she was there didn’t help her come to terms with the situation anymore than ignorance had. It felt as if they were talking about someone else, not the over-educated IT girl that had spent years trying to blend into the crowd. 

“It’s getting cold,” he said. 

“Just… wait a second,” she took a hold of his arm before he could move. “I need you to promise me one thing.” He nodded. “Don’t protect me, okay? Don’t shield me from information you think might hurt me. I know that might be a lot to ask because I am just a stranger, but if it involves me you have to tell me.”

“I promise.” 

As they made their way back he noted the shoes in her hand with a humorous quip, and then offered to give her a piggyback ride back to the car. Her feet felt frozen solid, so she gladly accepted the offer. As they approached the car again Diggle was standing by the driver’s side watching them with a bemused smile. 

“I take it the visit to the graveyard went well Mr Queen, Felicity,” His eyes glimmered as he smiled. The chauffeur slash bodyguard definitely knew what they’d been discussing at the gravestone. 

“Yup,” Felicity said. “Now, no more detour, I want to sleep.” Oliver bent his knees so that she could climb off of him and into the car. 

There were a lot of things she still needed to find out, things she had to learn about her husband before she could stop worrying about her place in it. New concerns had been awoken, and she was sure that another night she’d lie awake with them racing in her head. Not that night, though. She knew she would be asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. The clock on the dashboard informed her that it was nearing 3am, so it was no wonder she was tired. 

Later when they were both lying awake in the darkness of the bedroom, having not fallen asleep despite being convinced she would be already, she reached across the bed to poke his bicep.

“Yes, Felicity?” She smiled at the way he said her name.

“I just… I never met your grandfather, but what you told me about him and the bits and pieces I could piece together, that’s not anywhere near the impression I’ve got from you,” she whispered. “Just so you know.”

He twisted himself in the bed so that he faced her. She could just barely see the outline of his body in the pitch black darkness of their bedroom. 

“Thank you, Felicity.” 

That was what started their happily ever after, the moment that catapulted them from strangers reluctantly married to two people who were about to start an actual relationship with the other. It was tentative, but nevertheless it was a beginning of something that could become great.

And that was the place the stayed for a few months, blissfully believing that they had everyone fooled and that they could start some sort of life together. That was until the first weekend in December when reality quite literally tripped across their doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... expect a time jump in the next chapter! Hope this wasn't too terrible.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, once again, that it is taking so long between updates. While life is calmer, I am writing my dissertation this semester (on war and peace, funnily enough)... and well, that takes a lot of energy. Which is why this is shorter than the other chapters.
> 
> I have seen that people are still reading this, and I really appreciate the support for this fic which is just all a fic writer can ask for really. It has kept me motivated to come back to this and finish it. I hope you enjoy what’s going on after this little time-jump I’ve taken in this story. The first chapters were to establish their relationship, and the groundworks for what is to come in the future chapters… which I really hope you enjoy, because I know I’m going to enjoy writing them.

The man burst open their door, falling over his own feet with the force of the blow he’d had on the door. Splinters flew, landing scattered all over the floor. 

They’d been sitting enjoying a lazy Sunday brunch, which far less fancy than it sounded, when there was a sudden bang and appearance of a man inside their apartment. It was Oliver who first leapt into action, pulling a gun out of a drawer she never knew that there was a gun in and ran to put himself in the intruder’s line of sight. The barrel of the gun was pointed directly at the intruder, and Oliver’s face was hard mask where nothing but determination showed. There was none of the fear that coursed through Felicity’s veins and making her grip the back of the chair so hard her knuckles turned white. 

“Who are you?” Oliver’s voice was steady and paced, but there was no way for him to hide just how lethal his anger could be. That was the only thing that told Felicity that he was scared too, but there was no way that the intruder would know that Oliver’s anger was just another expression of his fear. 

The man’s hand flew up to his ears, holding them up in surrender. “They sent me… they sent me to warn you.” He took a few hyperventilating breaths before continuing. “I’m nobody, okay? They just sent me here to tell you that they’re coming for her,” he pointed in the direction of the kitchen where she still sat unable to move. “Lebedev is not convinced.” 

“You’re one of Lebedev’s guys?” The gun was still pointed at the man, and he took one step closer to the intruder. 

“I’m just a six, I’m just… shit, yes I work for him but after this I’m not, I’m not I swear.” 

“He’s not convinced of what, tell me.” Oliver glanced at Felicity, and for a moment she could see the panic that was building behind his eyes. If Lebedev was unconvinced of their marriage then not only was Bratva peace at stake, Felicity’s life would also be in immediate danger. 

“Your marriage, he doesn’t think it’s real, he doesn’t think it’s enough.” 

“You had to break down our door to tell us this?” For a moment he lowered his gun, looking curiously at the man by his feet. Oliver had had his own moments of being overly zealous, using more force than a situation needed, but he couldn’t say he’d ever broken a door down without actually needing to. Most of the time knocking did the trick. 

“Because we told him to. We knew you wouldn’t let us inside voluntarily.” Oliver’s eyes snapped up to the group of men standing in the doorway. “Hello Oliver,” the man in a long black coat and thinning grey hair at the top of his head said. “You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you.”

“Lebedev…” Oliver glared at him, ready to aim and shoot at a moment’s notice.

“Then you were just a boy, a child,” Lebedev tutted. “Now look at you, the man that thinks he can become Pakhan.”

“I do not stake a claim to that title.” He clutched the gun tighter in his hand, his finger placed on the trigger and ready to shoot. Behind him Felicity clutched a knife in her own hand - a blunt knife she had buttered her toast with just as the intruders had kicked the door in. If needed, she would make it a lethal weapon. 

Lebedev chuckled. “Why would I trust a man who marries a girl against the interests of the Bratva?” He stepped closer, ignoring the gun pointed directly at his heart. “The one girl who can take down the entire Bratva.” Lebedev looked over Oliver’s shoulder, directly at Felicity. She was still in her pyjamas, just a pair of shorts and a T-shirt she had stolen from Oliver’s drawers months ago. Without makeup she looked younger than her twenty-three years, innocent and incapable of something as dangerous and world changing as taking down Bratva. Looks can be deceiving; that was something they’d all learned a long time ago.

“I married her because we love each other,” Oliver said. “Because it was the only way to keep her safe.” One lie, one truth. A lie concealed with a truth. Close enough to reality that it might be able to mask what had actually transpired before their hasty wedding. 

“You married her for leverage Oliver.” Lebedev shook his head as he laughed, it was loud bubbling up from his belly, and stopped abruptly. “Five years training to be a Vor and you think we believe that you came home to marry this girl?” He placed his hand on top of Oliver’s gun, pushing it down. Fear never crossing his features. Death was just another challenge for a man like him. 

“I do not want to be Pakhan.” His voice was lower now, steadied and measured as he glanced over his shoulder at Felicity, and then at the men in their apartment. “I have a company, a life, a duty to my family and to the Bratva to uphold. Power in the Bratva is not something I seek, I serve the Bratva as my family, but I do not intend to make Bratva serve me.”

“Tell me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot your lovely wife right now, Oliver.” One firm hand pushing down Oliver’s shoulder and his eyes on Felicity, on her bare legs and face still flushed from sleep. Despite the words being spoken softly, barely above a whisper, it was loud enough to carry across the room to Felicity. She paled, stumbling off of the barstool and behind the counter as a protective barrier. 

“Shooting her means signing your own death certificate. If you take her out Kuttler will end you, but before he can we will end you.” Oliver looked over at Felicity again, then back at Lebedev. “You will have storms raging on two fronts, and nowhere to hide.” 

Lebedev nodded. “And you said you did not want to be Pakhan, tsk tsk Oliver… know that eyes are watching everywhere.” He patted Oliver’s back. “Come on, let’s go and leave this lovely couple to their breakfast.” He looked down at the man on the ground who’d kicked down the door with a lip curled in disgust. “Viktor… take care of him.”

\---

Moira regarded the two of them from her seat in the arm chair, her chin raised high and eyes disapproving and calculating. As a true matriarch in the family and the organization it was a given that it was her they needed to turn to. Whether they wanted to or not they were about to be the receiving end of orders thinly veiled as advice. Taking this kind of assault by another brotherhood within the Bratva wasn’t something to be taken lying down. Whatever needed to be done would be to assert their power while at the same time not escalate the instability. 

The two of them sat poised on the sofa, too elegant to be called a couch. Like two children awaiting the verdict for misbehaving they made themselves as small as possible. Somehow they had failed at their duty to be convincing. Despite spending the last months warming up to each other, living with each other, going to functions together, constantly touching, and even despite the couple of times they’d had sex since their marriage… it had not been enough. It wasn’t a traditional marriage, but for them it felt like one. They were in a long-term relationship, and they were dedicated to each other and seeing it work. Maybe they did not have the same motivation as people usually had for staying married, but they were adamant about making the most of their time together. 

As Felicity thought back at the past weeks she had started to view their relationship as real. It wasn’t just about not being killed anymore, it was about him too. She wanted to be with him, spend her time with him. She didn’t know when that had happened, but now as she was faced with people who didn’t believe what they had was real she didn’t feel threatened, she felt indignation. She felt disrespected. How could they not see that she and Oliver cared deeply for each other?

“Well,” Moira started, pulling Felicity out of her thoughts. “We always knew this could happen.” The Matriarch tapped her fingers against the top of her thighs and tightened her lips. There are several ways to deal with this, some more appropriate than others.”

The two of them remained silent, the shock of what had happened that morning still fresh in their minds. Oliver could still feel his heart pounding in his chest when he thought of Lebedev’s threats towards Felicity. 

“The one thing we want to avoid is a direct confrontation between us and Lebedev’s men, starting the war we were attempting to stop by you marrying Felicity. What we want to do is to show ourselves as proud Bratva members by not taking this sitting down.” She kept her eyes level at the two of them. “We can do it one of two ways: the first one is by Felicity becoming a full member of Bratva, and asserting herself within the brotherhood. The second is by strengthening your commitment and by that showing Felicity is forever tied to the Bratva by having a child with a Bratva captain.”

It was stupid to think that the difficult part was over, Felicity thought as she closed her eyes to keep the words from hitting her too hard. To keep from seeing the faces of those around her, and their reaction. She took a few deep calming breaths, feeling Oliver’s hand nudging her own but she pulled it away. Not now, she thought. Not now, because if you touch me I will scream. 

“I’m… twenty-three,” was all she could get out. She thought of the conversation she had with Moira at the time of the wedding, about children and that these days they could wait years before they had them. Years, not months. “I’m not going to have a child.” Her eyes were still closed, her head suddenly feeling much colder than the rest of her body as her heart pounded in her chest. 

“I was twenty-three when I had Oliver,” Moira said, and Felicity’s eyes flew open to land on the woman in front of her. “Children are not the worst thing that could happen, dear.” 

Despite the gentle tone, Felicity couldn’t stop the words from escaping her. “Did you have a double master’s degree that you got at 19? Did you have dreams of a career and paving your own path, and not wanting to wait until your children were old enough to care for themselves so you don’t feel guilty about having to work fifteen hours a day to get where you want to be?” 

“I may have been a mother most of my life, but I have had a very successful career as well.” Even when insulted Moira didn’t flinch. Taking offense was beneath her. 

“No children,” Felicity said, “yet.” 

“There is only one other option for you then.” 

\---

In the car back home Oliver’s hands laced with her own, pulling her from her thoughts out of the window. It was still light out and so much had happened since just that morning. Yet again she had faced a day where her entire life had been flipped upside down because of her father’s actions. No matter what she did either she or someone else was in danger because of her. It was exhausting, and she needed a break from her own life. 

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” he asked her, eyes attentively watching her as he waited for her response.

“Yes, it’s the only option I have.” He nodded slowly, but didn’t seem to understand anyway.

“I get that it’s too soon for us, but if a child can save us, save everyone… save you from getting involved with the Bratva, then isn’t that the best choice?” He pulled her hand closer to him as she tried to pull it away. “I can be a stay at home dad, do everything so that you can do what you need to do for yourself. You don’t have to sacrifice a thing for it.”

“Oliver,” she interrupted him. “This is no reasons to have a child. Having a child in this situation, for this reason is… I do not want to bring a child into this world like that. Even if I didn’t have the dreams I have, I still wouldn’t want to have a child because it is strategically the best thing to do to avoid a war. A child is not a strategy, it’s a person, a baby we have to care for for our entire lives. And… I don’t think I will be able to make the sacrifices I have to make when I have a child.” She pulled her hand out of his. “I want it to be our decision to have a child, not anyone else’s.”

The car stopped at a red light and she looked out the window at people having a late lunch in a restaurant, faces bright and laughing over glasses of wine. 

“You didn’t have a choice when it came to Bratva, and neither have I… so I need your support in this, okay?” She heard him let out a long breath, and turned to face him.

“Whatever you do, I’m right beside you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very much apologize for the inevitable errors and such in this post. I wrote this sleep-deprived eating a microwave brownie, and I just wanted this posted for you guys ASAP before I chicken out and decide that this needs x amount of more unnecessary things meaning it would never get posted.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this new chapter! Please let me know what you think! And you can follow me on twitter where I'm muffinsplanned, or tumblr where I am deckerprestonsmoak


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, a chapter that isn’t 3-6 months after I last updated! Hurray! I just graduated this past week from uni, and I now have one week off before work kicks off, so I figured I’d take the time to write this chapter. I had a lot, a lot, of fun writing this and I think I’ve got my “groove” back. To be honest, I lost it for a while and you could probably tell by the quality drop of this story. I was a bit lost on direction and how I wanted to pursue this, but now? Now I’m ready to take you on a wild ride. Hopefully work this summer won’t take too much out of me and I’ll be able to update more regularly, but I work in health care and well… it’s a lot, so I can’t promise anything. 
> 
> Once again, I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and if you want to discuss anything I would love to hear from you what you think. See the end of chapter notes for my social media handles!

The pleasant hum of computers did wonders of settling her nerves. She’d shut herself in at work, finding the dark corner of the server room and plugged herself in. The menial tasks were exactly what she needed, distracting her enough from her life, but not requiring too much effort which could lead to her mind wandering off to territories she’d rather leave unexplored. For now, at least. 

She’d been at it for hours, and had cancelled her lunch with Oliver for that day. They made it a point to meet up in the restaurant that was in the Queen Consolidated building for lunch, especially when Oliver would be occupied by other things in the evenings. Like Bratva business. As it were now she had little to say to Oliver, to anyone really, which was why she cancelled it. 

Not that she was particularly hungry anyway. 

She recalled the conversation she’d had with Moira while Oliver had retreated into the Queen mansion office to discuss Bratva business with his father. “Logistics”, Oliver had said, “for you”. A part of her had wanted to follow him into the dimly lit office to advocate for herself, but she was in uncharted territory, and she didn’t know what any of it would mean. She trusted Oliver to make the best decisions for her that he could. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” Moira had asked, standing by the drinks cart looking very much like the picture of a dignified posh woman. 

“Something strong,” Felicity croaked, to Moira’s apparent amusement. Moira poured a finger of what Felicity suspected was whisky, or scotch -- something that she should probably know what by now -- into two glasses . Felicity knew red wine, that was the extent of her knowledge of alcoholic beverages. 

“Do you like working at Queen Consolidated, Felicity?” Moira sat down in the same seat as before, locking one ankle behind her other as she gave Felicity one of the glasses. 

“Hmm?” She took a sip of the amber liquid. “Yes, I do… I mean, I don’t really see myself working in the IT department running diagnostics on softwares for the rest of my life, I would like to… I don’t know, I have a vague idea of what I want in my life, but I don’t have the clear goals I had a few years ago.” For having acted so sure of herself and the future she wanted just some minutes ago, it embarrassed her that she failed at explaining her goals to the matriarch so epically. “I like computers, I like creating things with computers, both software and hardware, and I want to do… that.”

“The system you built for Queen Consolidated earlier this year has been one of the smoothest systems we’ve had at our company since… well, ever,” Moira complimented. “There is a position coming up that I think would be a good fit for you. If you chose to apply for it you would be working directly under our CIO with information security.” She paused, and regarded Felicity for a few beats. “If you want it, it’s yours.”

“Wouldn’t people be accusing you of nepotism, then?” Felicity asked, and Moira simply chuckled.

“They already are, my dear,” she looked over her shoulder towards the door which Oliver had walked through before. “Oliver isn’t exactly qualified for the position he has, but you are overqualified for your current position.”

“Thank you,” Felicity stuttered out, bewildered at the turn of events. Sure, she was signing her life over to the Bratva, but she was also getting the big break she had hoped for in her career.

“I figured that if you were going to chose the more difficult path then it should at least be worth it.” It was obvious that she didn’t really approve of the choice that Felicity had made, but still respected it. “I suppose that things are different now than they were thirty years ago, back then there wasn’t really a choice like it is now. To be in the circles Robert and I were in back then children weren’t optional, having children was what made us trustworthy.”

Felicity took a large gulp of the amber liquid, whatever it was, not really enjoying what the topic had switched back to. 

“I’m going to ask you about this one more time, because I want you to truly think about what it is you are getting yourself into, and what you are opting out of.” If Moira noticed Felicity nearly emptying her glass in one go she didn’t show it. “There is never a good moment to have a child, you can wait your entire life for the moment to show up, and likewise there is never actually a good reason to have one, beyond wanting a child.” She mused for a few short seconds. “Oliver was planned, but Thea was not. Both times it was the same experience, the same overpowering love that I cannot explain, and it was just as difficult. It’s rewarding in a way that I would love to be able to put words to, but until you see your child smile for the first time it would be impossible for you to understand.”

“The Bratva is just difficult,” Moira continued. “There is no reward but money and power, and you do not strike me as the kind of person who is satiated by that.” Moira placed her glass on the table and leaned forward towards Felicity, clasping her hands in her lap. “Are you sure of your decision Felicity?”

“Yes.” Despite it all there hadn’t been a moment in her life where she’d been more sure of her decision than in this moment. Not even leaving for college at 16 had been as easy to do as to decide not to have a child now. 

“Not everyone wants to be a mother, and that’s alright, but that’s not a choice Queens have to make and especially not you, Felicity. I would love to say that you have all the time in the world, but you do not.” She took one of Felicity’s hands in her own. “I don’t want to feed you to the wolves because I know how much Oliver cares for you, but to save my children I would offer you up on a platter.”

Silence lay heavy between them as Moira’s words sunk in. She often forgot that it was Moira that had planned to kill her all those months ago, and that it was Oliver who had saved her from his own mother. Now she was sure she’d never forget Moira’s part in the life she now had ever again. 

“I will give you one last chance to do it your own way.” Moira pulled away from her, standing up again. “After that, we do it my way”. 

She hadn’t told Oliver about the conversation, she hadn’t told anyone. It had settled like a cement brick in the pit of her stomach, and whenever she thought about it she had wanted to scream. Life as a Queen was truly a prison, and she hated how each day she seemed to lose more and more control of her life. When she gained freedom in one end there was always someone else there ready to chip away and close doors. When Moira offered her this position she also proved how much she was in control. Even if Felicity applied for a job at another company it would do little to actually break her free. 

Which was why she holed up in her office avoiding the world. That was until someone knocked at her door, pulling her out of the world of numbers and information to the woman who sheepishly stood by the door. 

“Oliver told me that you’re avoiding him,” Laurel said, “and avoiding food.” She held up a bag from Big Belly Burger, and when the smell from the fires and meat hit Felicity’s nostrils her stomach cramped. She did need food.

“I’m not avoiding him,” Felicity said, “but thank you for bringing food.” 

“No problem.” Laurel stepped inside and placed the paper bag on the desk in front of Felicity. Felicity immediately opened it and fished a fry up. “I know how it can be dealing with Moira.”

“He told you about that, too?” She slumped back in the chair, placing the paper bag in her lap as she continued to munch on the lukewarm fries. 

“He doesn’t need to tell me much, but as one of his ex-girlfriends I know she has an ability to railroad you.” Felicity hummed in reply. “I know enough about the Queens to keep myself safe, but I make it a point to not know the details of anything. As a lawyer that could put me in a difficult position, but I can guess.”

“Laurel, I don’t want to--”

“I know,” Laurel cut her off. “I’m not here to make you talk it out with me, I’m here to give you food and to remind you that you are not alone, and that you have people outside of the Queen family who care for you.” It wasn’t much of an offering, but it was enough to settle some of the panic that trashed inside of Felicity. Sometimes it was just the thought that counts, and this was one of those times. She knew that Laurel was offering all that she had for her, and it wasn’t what Felicity wanted, but it was what she needed. Compassion. 

“Thank you, Laurel.” Felicity smiled. “Not just for the food, but for the… words.” 

“You can thank me by coming over to mine and Tommy’s tonight.” Subtle, Felicity thought wryly. “We’ll have drinks, and get embarrassingly drunk on wine.” 

“Sounds like exactly what I need,” Felicity picked the burger out of the bag. “Big Belly Burger and getting drunk on wine on a work night.”

“Just what the doctor prescribed,” Laurel winked. 

“Thank you Dr Lance.”

It was precisely what she needed. She sent off a text to Oliver to inform him of the situation, and that she’d meet him at Tommy and Laurel’s place after work. There was no need to go home and change after work, so she headed right from work to their place a bit after 6 in the evening. She hadn’t intended on staying as late, but had to finish off a diagnostic she had started earlier that day before she could leave for the day. Neither Oliver or Felicity felt particularly safe in the apartment anymore, and had spent most of the days since the incident looking at new places in Starling to purchase. There were places with potential, but neither of them had the energy to move as it was. 

When she arrived Oliver was already there setting the table, and Tommy was making something on the stove that smelled incredible. Despite eating a big belly meal just a few hours earlier she was ready to devour any food that was placed in her path, like the chips that Laurel held out to Felicity when she walked inside the apartment.

“Ooh, thank you,” Felicity grabbed a handful of chips out of the bowl. “I heard someone mention wine?” Within seconds she had a matching wine glass in her hand as Laurel had in her own.

“Now, let’s get wasted like 19 year olds,” Laurel winked and linked her arm with Felicity’s. “By the way, did I tell you guys that Sara’s been accepted for a PhD position at CCU, so she’s going to be moving to Central City soon. It’s still far away, but at least we’re in the same country again.”

“Wow, that’s great!” Oliver exclaimed, his rosy cheeks and boisterous voice revealing that he’d already had a bit to drink. “It’s so strange to be back still, when I left she was still a freshman, and now she’s becoming a doctorate, that is… insane.” He walked up to Felicity and gave her a tight hug. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She smiled back at him, and immediately felt guilty for ignoring him that day. She should’ve told him about what Moira had said. She would. Tomorrow she’d tell him. 

“When’s she coming back then?” Oliver asked, pulling Felicity by her hand towards the dining table and placing her in one of the seats.

“Oh, she’s not starting until August next year, so she and Nyssa will be keep working with whatever they’re working with in Nepal,” Laurel paused and giggled, “I wonder what Nyssa will do in Central City, she’d probably go bonkers staying in a city like that.”

“Be nice,” Tommy shouted from the kitchen.

“I am nice!” Laurel shouted back.

After dinner the four of them eventually migrated towards the couches, Felicity cuddled up close to Oliver, and Tommy and Laurel in a very similar position. They had probably had a bit more than a bottle of wine each, and it showed in how quickly they descended into screaming laughter over jokes that got more and more dirty as the evening went on. Then, they became more subdued, talking in hushed voices about what they’d never dare to speak about sober.

“After my mom died it was like the good part of my dad died too,” Tommy said, pulling Laurel closer towards him, and she responded by stroking a thumb across the palm of his hand in soothing circles. “Actually, Oliver’s dad has been more of a dad to me than my own father, which kind of makes the two of us brothers.”

“Yeah, it does,” Oliver agreed. “You are my brother as much as Thea is my sister.” 

“You’re a sap, man.” Tommy shook his head.

“Well, you started it!” Felicity shot Laurel a knowing look, both rolling their eyes at the macho act these two very sensitive and emotionally intelligent boys put up in a room where they all knew each other. Ridiculous, their looks said, but neither of them said anything. 

“It’s so strange that Thea is graduating from high school this spring,” Laurel said instead. “She was a baby basically when I first met you two.” 

“A real pest,” Oliver said with a laugh. “We’d call her Speedy then, she would run everywhere, talk a mile a minute, and she was alway, always, exactly where you were,” he explained to Felicity. “She hated that nickname, which was why we kept calling her that.”

“Ollie and Speedy, huh?” Felicity said. “Sounds like cartoon characters.” 

Oliver dug his fingers into Felicity’s side and she squealed. “I’ve said to not call me Ollie.” He kept tickling her until she was squirming and screaming from laughter, trashing herself around and elbowing him in the stomach. “Ow,” he said, but despite the theatrics he didn’t seem to be that hurt by her sharp elbow. 

“Just what you deserve,” Felicity huffed, but couldn’t keep a smile off of her face as she snuggled back under Oliver’s arm and into his chest. She glanced over at Tommy and Laurel who were deep in conversation with each other over what appeared to be about if Morgan Freeman should automatically be given the role of god in any given movie. 

“You’ve got good friends,” Felicity commented to him as they settled down and watched Tommy and Laurel.

“Yeah, they’re pretty awesome,” he agreed, his fingers combing through her hair. The moment made her heart squeeze almost painfully with happiness and something more and scary, something she couldn’t think about when she was this drunk. She just knew that she was grateful for this. Whatever bad and painful things they were going through moments like these made it all worth it. 

Not long after they decided to call it a night, calling the car service to take them home. In the hallway Laurel gave Felicity a long bear hug whispering into Felicity’s ear that if she ever needed to talk about anything she was there as her friend. That made Felicity hug her new friend tighter, reluctant to let go and go home. It became evident that through hardships friends revealed themselves, and she’d gotten extremely lucky in her live.

“Felicity,” Oliver said in the car, “I know you’ve been avoiding me.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued before she could get a word in. “It’s okay, I get that it’s a lot for you, but when you’re done thinking about it I hope you trust me enough to talk to me about it.”

“I will, but not right now.” She smiled at him. How had she gotten this lucky?

“Okay.” He smiled back, and it was a sleepy and happy smile that made her heart do that twinge again. There was something in his eyes as he watched her, and she wondered if she had that same look in hers. Open, vulnerable, and ready. The gravity of the earth shifted as she was pulled towards him, lips soft and warm against her own. Tongue against her own, massaging, exploring, and him pulling her closer and closer to him until there wasn’t a breath of space between them.

The car pulled into the garage and they reluctantly parted, but not for long. As soon as they closed the apartment door behind them they were in each other’s space again. His hand against her cheek angled her head up to meet his as he kissed her with the same languid and soft touch as in the car. Something burned inside of her, gentle and roaring all at the same time. 

He backed her into their bedroom, reaching behind her to the zipper of her dress, and she unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time.

“I want you,” he mumbled against her lips. “Everyday I want you.” He pushed the dress down over her shoulders, his hands following the newly revealed skin. 

“Please,” was all she could say back. She wanted the same thing he did, yearned for it in a way she had never yearned for it before. It wasn’t just desire that had her opening his belt, or pulling his pants down his legs. 

She shrugged her dress off and climbed back on the bed pulling him with her. He settled on top of her, his hips pressed between her hips. There she could feel him, hot and all hers.

“I need you, Oliver,” she rolled her hips against him.

When he slipped inside of her it was with a gentleness she had never experienced with a man before. This wasn’t just sex, they both knew it. He explored her body, her reactions, pulling her towards an orgasm that had her body vibrating, mind going white, and toes curling as she pulled him deeper inside of her. Only when he approached his own orgasm did he speed up his rhythm before spilling inside of her. 

He remained inside of her for a while until his weight got too heavy, but as he rolled off of her he pulled her with him until she was almost lying on top of him. 

“We should do that sober,” he said. She hummed against his chest, placing a wet kiss on it before responding.

“I’d like that.” 

She regretted not telling Oliver sooner about Moira, but she had to process it on her own first. Whatever happened she knew that Oliver was on her side. She had to trust that their plan would work, that it would never come to the point where Moira would demand the one solution that Felicity could not agree upon. As much as she loved Oliver, she knew now that she loved him whether she wanted to admit it or not, there were things she would not do yet.

They had a little time, and they would need to act quick before it was too late. They had one shot, and if they failed it would most likely not be Moira deciding their fate. No, the two of them knew that this was bigger than the Queen family. 

This was bigger than the whole damn Bratva.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: No, Felicity did not get pregnant in this chapter.
> 
> **Social media handles** :  
> Twitter: muffinsplanned  
> Tumblr: deckerprestonsmoak


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got a week off work, which meant this happened. I’m sad to say that we’re reaching the end of this fic soon… There’s maybe two or three chapters left after this one, so expect me to crank up the volume/heat on this story because shit is going down! Heh
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t a backroom. Despite the clandestine nature of their activities it wasn’t kept to backroom meetings under the cover of nighttime. There was something about the noon sun that glared into the window forming shadow patterns across the computer screen that unsettled her. It wasn’t at all what she expect it to be. Lord knew she had no problems with her imagination, this wasn’t even close though. 

She shifted the computer out of the sun. The room was obviously not designed to be a hacking central, but given that the building was built more than a hundred years ago it didn’t surprise her as much as the Bratva renting office space in the old town hall building. It was just wrong. A foreign maffia organization using spaces which once had performed patriotic duties. It was smart though, she supposed, to be hiding in plain sight in daylight. 

A few feet behind her was her bodyguard, or guard, who’d introduced himself as Conny when she first met him in the dimly lit hallway outside of her and Oliver’s new place. The new place was nice enough, bigger than their old one, with extra bedrooms that had pushed that long overdue conversation with Oliver to the surface. It was a four-story building, and their apartment was on the top floor, and the only one on that landing. The entrance was manned by security 24-7, which was the biggest comfort of moving there. 

The two extra bedrooms had been a surprise to both her and Oliver. It was Moira and Robert that had found it for them, or more likely an realtor they had hired, and the first time they’d seen it was just days after the incident at breakfast. She didn’t know why she trusted Moira at all at this point, but it was an apartment, how horrible could it be?

“They’re getting ahead of themselves,” Oliver had joked when he’d peered down the hallway to the three doors that led into respective bedrooms. “I guess we’re both getting our own office?” He said it as he set off down the hallway, but she lingered behind, remembering the conversation she’d had with Moira. This wasn’t just about her, even if she wanted to keep it to herself because of how much the topic had embarrassed her. This was about Oliver, her husband, as well.

“Oliver,” she’d called out to him. “I need to tell you something.” 

He turned around towards her. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” He didn’t sound too sure.

“No, I’m not pregnant. I’m happily un-pregnant, and would really like to stay that way for at least a few years.” She drew in a shaky breath. 

“But?” He had heard it lingering in the air, voicing it to help her along. 

“I talked to your mom,” she shook her head, “no actually your mom kind of talked to me, which she’s very good at, you know _talking at_ people, after you left with your father on Sunday, she kind of elaborated in a way about the whole topic. She’s really archaic, I didn’t expect a woman in her position to be as conservative as she is, but really what did I expect? No offence, but rich people in my experience tend to be _way_ conservative--” she paused as Oliver raised his eyebrow, his way of telling her to cut out the rambling. “That’s not relevant. Sorry. What I meant to say was that she elaborated on the whole children thing. She basically said, and I’m paraphrasing, that we get one shot at doing this our way, and then she’s going to… essentially order us to have a child? I’m not quite sure how that would work, but that’s what she implied.”

“What does that mean?” he took a staggering step towards the wall, leaning against it as he furrowed his eyebrows. “When does this one shot end? How long do we have to calm things down?”

“I didn’t ask.”

He made a sound of exasperation. “You didn’t ask?”

“I was in shock! I don’t know, she does this thing where she just railroads you and I just wanted to get out of there!” She took one calming breath, but then decided to say fuck it, she was angry. “She’s _your_ mother, what do you think it means?”

“You know this complicates everything, right? What if we can’t… execute quick enough and she gets tired of waiting? I don’t know… I don’t know if I’d be comfortable doing this if you’re going to be pregnant, or if we have a baby.” He took one of her hands in his, squeezing it as if he somehow could make her understand the conflicting feelings inside him by touching her.

“It’s not going to take that long, and even if it did I’d rather do this than put a child into the world you’re in. How would you feel if your son got sent away to Russia like you were?” He inhaled sharply. “Exactly.” 

Silence passed between them for a few long beats before she broke it. “We’re still doing this.”

Despite the urgency of it all it had been weeks since that conversation. Conny had become a part of the furniture, never speaking but always present. He was more of a guard than a bodyguard, ensuring that she was doing as told. There was no way for her to know how much of coding and hacking he knew about, but she erred on the side of caution and assumed he was proficient in it. She didn’t want word to get back to Moira and Robert that she was slacking on her duty, since that wouldn’t exactly put her in a good favor with them.

It was easy enough to find what she needed. The Bratva were going to intercept a shipment from one of QC’s trading partners containing technology that the Queens did not want to have public records of purchasing or owning. First she needed the shipping manifesto, which she thanked her lucky stars were digital and ensuring that she knew this shipment was the correct one. The rest of it was fairly easy to find as well, the only thing that gave her grief was forging the security passes, but once she found her way into the security database she could use their system to generate new custom-made ones. 

A couple of hours and she was done. 

“So, where do you want me to drop of this?” She held up the USB-drive with the information needed to make security passes. Conny said nothing, just grabbed it out of her hand and put it in his pocket. “You know what to do with it?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t remember that he had said more than one word at any occasion, so his curt response was expected. Nevertheless, it still annoyed her. Of all the words in the english language and he chose to not use them? 

“Okay then, now if you don’t mind giving me my phone so I can call my mom,” she held out her hand, “she’s expecting my call,” she added. 

Despite the holidays being over, and already being some days into January, there were still Christmas decorations in the store across the street. SALE signs were plastered across the darkened windows, and she glanced down at her phone clock to see just how late it was. Had the stores already closed? 6.17pm.

“Shit.” She pulled up her mom’s contact and pressed call as she rounded the corner into the bathroom. “Hey mom,” she said sheepishly when she picked up.

“Busy day?” The sympathetic mom-voice was just what she had needed, and Felicity immediately melted back against the tiled wall. 

“You can say that.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you thought about it?” Despite trying to contain it the hopefulness still shone through. 

“I don’t know baby.” There it was, what she had expected all along but hoped wouldn’t be the answer. “There’s a reason why your dad left, and as much as I love you I don’t know if I can stand to see you doing this to yourself.” 

“I just… I want you to meet Oliver, he’s… he’s good to me mom, we’re good together, and I think you’ll like him.” For months she had tried to get her mom to come to Starling, but one thing after another had interfered, and then it was past Christmas. That was what sucked the most, she’d always seen her mother for Christmas, even if their relationship was far from the best. Her mom was still her mom, and all that she had left. 

“I know, I know,” the silence grew, it felt like a canyon that Felicity was falling into. No no, she thought, don’t take my mother too, don’t take my mother too. 

“You’re not coming,” she fought the urge to hang up, to run away from this conversation. “You’re never coming.” The tears that welled up in her eyes and swelled in her throat made the words thick and almost unrecognizable. “I can’t come home?”

“Not now, you have to get yourself out of this, and if you need help with that I’m here for you, but I’m not going to be around to see you destroy yourself like your father.” Her voice was thick, too, hoarse with the difficulty of getting them out. “I’m really sorry baby, I really am.”

“I need you mom.” She furiously wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“I love you Felicity.” 

The click that signaled the end of their conversation was deafening. 

It was a Thursday night when they returned to Bratva HQ. Oliver had handed her a bag from Big Belly Burger in the car on the way over from QC that she devoured in under 2 minutes. They were heading straight there from work, knowing that tonight was the night it would all go down. This was Felicity’s first involvement in the Bratva, and they had both discussed it and neither of them felt like remaining blissfully unaware in their apartment. There was nothing more to do, but it at least felt like they had more control if they were with the actual Bratva.

The room felt a lot more stuffy with five men in suits and her in it. She was on the computer, fine-tuning a project for QC as Oliver sat beside her quietly observing the men in the room. None of them looked particularly Russian. They were all white and blond, but that was the extent of it. Generations in a cultural melting pot had removed the glaring features that gossiped of their heritage that they still remained proud of it. 

“I can’t concentrate,” she mumbled to Oliver, leaning over to rest her head against his shoulder. 

“Want to get out of here?” There was far less excitement than she thought there would be, the men in the room didn’t appear to be in there for the mission, but for something else entirely that she wasn’t privy to. No one seemed to know what was going down exactly. 

“Yes,” she caught the eye of an older man with greying hair and blue eyes where one had faded to a splotchy blur of color. He scowled at her, but it was hard to tell if he was against a woman being in the room -- which didn’t fit with the image she had gotten of the Bratva with Moira playing such a prominent role, or it was because she was who she was. A stranger. Noah’s daughter. A threat. She understood it, but it still made her uncomfortable. 

“Okay, let’s go.” 

They exited the room just as a group of men rushed up the stairs. In a flurry of movements before she realized what was happened, it was with the same urgency that Oliver had once tackled her to the ground. Someone had grabbed her by her arms, or two people on either side of her, it was too fast for her to get a grip of it. Her feet lifted off of the ground, and she could just hear Oliver’s voice raise before there was more commotion and noise that silenced him.

What was happening? 

“What’s going on?” she shouted, but she was given no answer. Pain shot up her knees as she was thrown on the ground like a discarded toy. Before she could push herself back up again and see the faces of those who had grabbed her like that she was grabbed once again, this time into a sitting position on the floor.

“Two men are dead,” a voice growled in her face. She shook her hair out of her face to reveal the face of a man inches from her face. “You think you’d get away with this?” He shook her by the shoulders. 

“Wha-what?” She looked over the men in the room, four men with furious expressions. Not a place anyone would feel safe in. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Tell that to the the children you left fatherless, to the two women you helped make widows,” the man who’d shook her said. 

This time they were in a backroom. There were no windows, and she could see that the door was inches thick as they closed it. This was no place for anyone to be.

“What are you doing?” She swallowed against the fear. “What are you doing?” She screamed, even though she didn’t want to. She didn’t want them to know how scared she was. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to find out what happened, and who you sold us out to.” 

She could hear the muffled sounds of someone banging on the door, the faint shout of someone calling her name. Oliver was out there. Fighting for her. She had to fight in here, the best she could. Focusing on him, on the shouts outside of the door, she pushed the fear down as far as she could and raised her eyes to meet theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! As per usual you can find me on the following social media handles  
> Tumblr: Deckerprestonsmoak  
> Twitter: muffinsplanned


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m really, really, sorry for the long wait. Real talk, I was up for a job with pretty high security clearance and well… I didn’t want to be online writing stories about a hacker doing illegal things. It just felt wrong. Anyway. I didn’t get the job (might be because I’m online writing about a hacker, the bratva, and a time traveling “terrorist”)… and I took on a bit too much creatively than I really should’ve (turned out great though, check out the timeless big bang so much goodness)... which equalled to this suffering. 
> 
> It turns out I only had one chapter left of this story. So I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and that it is a satisfying ending. 
> 
> Also, this is posted without editing (otherwise I'd probably lay around for another month before updating), and it's now 2am and I'm doing this instead of moving. Oh well.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!!

She’d never been one of those people who imagined their own death. Her friend in high school had been obsessed with death, but not Felicity. Despite being mislabeled as emo for a good portion of her luckily brief high school experience, a label that unfortunately stuck with her in college, she wasn’t emo. She was goth, thank you very much. Huge difference. Goth was more sophisticated, better, according to her then. Which meant she wasn’t suicidal, like most people thought the minute they laid eyes on her. 

Death wasn’t a subject she enjoyed pondering. Religion solved the basic question of _what happens when we die_ , and that was enough. She didn’t question that, didn’t doubt it. When it was her time it would be her time. She just didn’t think she would be 23 years old stuck in the backroom of a building with gun pressed against her forehead. 

Keeping her eyes locked on the man holding the gun she realized that the pounding on the door had stopped. Oliver, she thought, trying to swallow the growing lump in her throat. 

“Who did you tell?” Months ago in the graveyard Oliver had told her the role she had in this. The threat she posed. In the dimly lit room she could see the fear in the eyes of the man holding the gun. He was scared of her, she realized. Despite being less than half their size and unarmed she could do something that no one else could. She could end them and their entire life with a press of a button. 

“I didn’t tell anyone,” she said. Her voice was calm and steady now. In her chest her heart was pounding so fast it was making her nauseous. She couldn’t let that show. She couldn’t let them see that she was scared like she could see it in them. Fear gave the other person an advantage, one she wanted to be alone in having. “I was here the whole time, Conny was always with me.”

“Conny is one of Queen’s guys,” he snarled. The gun pressed harder against her head. 

“I didn’t do anything.” 

Fear wasn’t always an advantage. Fear made people dangerous, she knew that. She saw that. They only knew the power she had, the knowledge she possessed that spelled the end of them all. Just the potential of it made her a suspect, a threat. She would always be a threat to them until she stood to lose as much as they did. She understood Moira more than ever now. Just her existence was enough to have them quake with fear. That fear gave Moira power while it was deadly for Felicity. 

Thrown to the wolves. Oh. 

Just as it dawned on her the man raised the gun and then pain exploded in her head before the world went black. The last thought that registered in her head was that she should have seen this coming. 

\---

The pain was everywhere in her head. Her brain felt swollen, pressing against the inside of her skull and a searing pain across her temple was enough for her to wish for oblivion again. To sink into a deep sleep and not resurface until it was gone. She didn’t want it. 

“Mrs Queen, can you hear me?” a much too loud voice asked before her left eye was pried open to a blinding light, and then the right eye was given the same treatment.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was too loud in her head.

“Do you know where you are Mrs Queen, what day it is?” the voice kept interrogating her.

“No I don’t know where I am, and it’s Thursday January 10th 2013.” She pushed his hands away when they touched the sore spot on her head. “It hurts.” She wanted to cry. She wanted to ask for Oliver, for her mom, and she just wanted to go home and curl into her bed and be rid of this pain. 

Then she remembered. This wouldn’t be over for a while. The Bratva. Oliver. The Queens. Her father. Alexeev. Lebedev. Moira. She was possibly the biggest threat of them all. A mother with everything to lose. 

“I’m trying to help you, can you open your eyes and tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” She cooperated. The examination was short but she followed the commands and answered all the questions that were asked. She noticed Oliver at the foot of the gurney she was on. His hands were white from the tight fists he was balling them up into, but he looked unharmed. He barely even looked tousled up except for his hair that was sticking up in random directions. 

“Felicity,” was all he said as the doctor left them alone, drawing some blood and informing them that she was going to get a CT scan done on her head, but that everything look alright. He took her hand in his and held it to his chest. 

“Oliver.” She squeezed it back. “What happened?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said. “God, I don’t ever want to go through that again, Felicity, ever.” He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, the side that didn’t feel like it was throbbing. The pain medication she had been given by a nurse while she was being examined was kicking in though, and it felt less sharp but still like a lot of pain. “I love you Felicity. It was all I could think about when you were behind that door and I promised that if I got to see you again I would tell you that. I love you Felicity Megan Smoak Queen.”

“You forgot Kuttler.” She tried laughing but it hurt too much. “I love you too, Oliver.”

She was apparently very lucky. The CT scan showed nothing but they still admitted her for one night for observation because of the time she was unconscious. She got a room with a pretty nice view but a bed that was uncomfortable. The hospital beds always looked so comfortable on TV but either she had bad luck or that was a lie, because she couldn’t get comfortable at all. 

“I think we should follow me my mom’s lead,” Oliver said once they’d settled in. No one questioned his presence, despite visiting hours being over since hours before. The amount of money his family had donated to the hospital meant he could do almost as he pleased. 

She gaped at him. “What?” He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“This proves she was right, we’re not safe how we’re doing it right now. If we continue with our plan who knows what will happen to us, to you?” He shook his head. “I’d rather be safe with you than free.” She untangled her hand from his feeling something like betrayal settle in her chest. 

“We agreed Oliver.” She wanted to cry, scream, she wanted him to be on her side and not his mother’s. “We both agreed on what to do and we’re going to do that. We’re not going to be your mom’s puppets.” 

“Felicity, we don’t have a choice!” He tried to hold her hand again but she moved it away. “We tried to do it but it failed, we failed and you almost died tonight! My mom was right, there is only one way to make sure you are safe.”

“Tonight was your mom!” she shouted back at him. “She was the one behind it. She’s throwing me to the wolves to save you. No matter what we do I will never be safe until they’re all gone. She just wants to have power over you, she wants to make sure that when she says jump then you will jump. As long as I’m alive I will be her tool, and if we have a kid she will have me killed and then use our child for leverage.” Her head was throbbing, both from pain and from anger. How could he be this stupid, how could he not get it?

“No,” his head shook but his eyes told a different story. It sounded like something his mother would do. “No.” He fell back into a chair, collapsing and burying his face in his hands. 

“She threw me to the wolves to push our hands, she’s manipulating you, me. I should’ve seen it coming. It makes so much sense now.” The pressuring for them to have a kid, lulling her into a state of trusting her and that she knew what was best for them. She knew Moira had her own game that she was playing, that she didn’t give much consideration if any at all for Felicity, but she forgot that Moira wanted to protect her son from everything. A woman like her only knew protecting people by owning them. Of course. She should have seen it coming. 

“I love her,” he said, voice low and almost breaking. “I can’t do that to her.” He’d realized the next step already, and her heart sunk, tearing apart from him. 

“I know.” _But we have to_ was the words left hanging in the air. 

Days later in the Queen mansion she sat next to Oliver on the couch, legs pressed against each their and hands laced together in their laps. They knew what they had to do. As Moira and Robert sat down in the chairs opposite the couch, looking like the monarch their surname titled them as. This time Felicity saw how the chairs were slightly higher than the couch, making them look as if they were sitting on two thrones. 

“What was it that you wanted to tell us?” Robert asked, leaning back in the chair while his eyes looked between the two of them. There was something peaceful about him, Felicity noted. Maybe he was less evil than his spouse, maybe he didn’t know at all, yet she could tell that there were many dark secrets in his closet. Secrets he didn’t want to come out. Secrets he would like to bury with him. 

“We’ve uh… we’ve given this some thought…” Oliver started to say, he didn’t have to play nervous. His heart was pounding in his chest. It all cam naturally. “Mom, you were right.”

“Oh, right about what?” If she had pursued acting Felicity was sure Moira would have won an Oscar by how convincingly she played oblivious. She was just a little flustered, pleased, and confused, blinking rapidly as a faint blush crept on her cheeks. 

“The best way to make sure that Felicity is safe, to show a strong and united front for the Bratva, is to have a baby.” The words settled like a stone in her stomach. “We’re going to start trying for a baby.”

“I’ve got an appointment to take out my IUD in two days,” she interjected. That call had been unpleasant to make to her doctor, it was a call she hadn’t been planning on making until she was 25 and then she was just going to replace it with a new one. Not take it out and that’s it. She fought a shudder. 

Moira smiled. “I’m glad you’ve come to that realization.” 

“It’s the best… option for us.” He squeezed her hand tighter and she nodded, swallowing against the lump in her throat. It had stayed there for days. It wouldn’t go away for a long time. She remembered the conversation they’d had yesterday, the one that had sealed the deal. No going back. 

“You know last week when you were hurt Felicity… we’re lucky they just wanted to send you a warning, but I’m really genuinely happy and pleased that you’ve come to the same conclusion that we have,” Moira said. “We know the Bratva, we know that this is the only way for you to be safe.”

“Yeah.” Felicity usually had a problem with finding too many words, but this time she found herself at loss. There was nothing she wanted to say, needed to say, or could imagine herself saying. 

“I know this is a tough realization to come to Felicity, but I promise you that once you and Oliver have your baby you will think it was all one hundred percent worth it.” Moira looked so pleased with herself that Felicity wanted to punch her. She’d rarely felt violent urges in her life, but seeing Moira now made her see red. 

They left the Queen mansion and headed straight towards the house they’d been informed to go to. A safe house, not a lot unlike the one which she was told to marry Oliver Queen in. The kind of house no one would think twice if they entered, not even the Bratva. 

“We’re doing the right thing,” she told him on the drive over, grasping his hand in hers. They’d met them yesterday, told them everything and struck a deal. Immunity for information. They needed Moira and Robert distracted, to let up on their paranoia regarding Felicity Smoak-Queen for one afternoon. 

This house had the computers in the basement, servers humming in the background that would’ve, if this had been under any other scenario, had Felicity in heaven. Instead she was, without pomp and circumstance, lead to a computer. 

“Did you get Thea?” she asked the agent beside her.

“She’s on her way here right now.” Felicity drew in a deep breath and nodded. 

“Okay then,” her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but then she stopped. “Is it one hundred percent sure that if I do this then we get witness protection, new identities and everything? Identities that will manage to hide a fairly known and recognizable person like Oliver and Thea?”

“We can do our jobs,” the agent said with a huff in annoyance. 

“Just checking.” There was no going back anyway. They knew enough now, and if she didn’t help them then Oliver and her were going to jail, and would probably be killed by someone in there. She would expose it all, every transaction, order, all of the ranks and the people in them, and Oliver would provide vital contextual information. 

Together they would bring down the Bratva. 

That was something they didn’t see coming. She never would have known about her father’s work if it weren’t for them. She would never have been able to do it alone, the information was incomplete. Bringing her and Oliver together was their downfall.

When they tried to kill her they set the ball rolling, but the ball had been in motion for years, ever since they sent Oliver away to Russia. 

It was a bit ironic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you liked this chapter and this story! I’m really sorry for the long wait and for it being the final chapter… and… kind of sorry for ending it on a cliffhanger-ish but it’s a “make it what you want” kind of ending. I really enjoy writing open-ended stories, and this one turned out to be one of those. 
> 
> Moira was a bit Moira Queen and a bit Carol Preston in this (both played by the same actress)... the mother who loves their child(ren) in very strange ways.
> 
> My next Arrow project is re-writing my one-shot “Viritual Vigilantism” into a multichapter fic. This time I’m going to write it all before I post it, because these long waits between chapters are just not cool. 
> 
> Follow me on social media:   
> Tumblr: distractednerdish  
> Twitter: muffinsplaned


End file.
